


In Every Possible Way

by h0lyheadharpies



Series: You Have My Heart, So Don't Hurt Me [1]
Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV), Green Gables Fables
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Irish!Anne, Slow Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 71,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24066649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0lyheadharpies/pseuds/h0lyheadharpies
Summary: "They say that people who belong to the island are born with a perfect match, someone with whom they are destined to spend the rest of their life...But, things aren’t always so simple. There are records of the earliest settlers having soul marks, so the people of the island have come to believe that only those born and bred here truly belong."
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Series: You Have My Heart, So Don't Hurt Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852297
Comments: 270
Kudos: 379





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from the song _Dreams_ by the Cranberries.

**10th May 1995**  


Anne Shirley stepped off the bus and ran down the street as fast as her legs could carry her. A scrawny girl of barely fifteen with an imagination far bigger than the whole of Ireland, she had been so caught up in her daydream that she had missed her initial bus. And now, she was late.

By the time she reached her home at the other end of the street, she was out of breath. “Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Brady,” she gasped, stepping through the front door where she dropped her bag and school blazer on her way to the kitchen. “I know you told me to be back by half four and I really did try, but I was so early that I thought I’d read a chapter or two while I waited. I got so caught up in the plot that I completely lost track of time and missed the first bus. Supposedly there was another bomb on the bridge and the bus I did manage to catch had to take a diversion. It won’t happen again, I swear!”

“This isn’t the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last,” Orla Brady sighed, putting the kettle on. “I moved us out of Belfast so the sodding conflict wouldn’t kill us all, but apparently that wasn’t good enough.”

Bertha and Walter Shirley had moved into Bertha’s old childhood home next door to the widowed Mrs. Brady shortly after they were married. A retired nurse, once Anne was born, she often looked after the young girl while her parents taught at the primary school down the road. Belfast, the epicentre of the Troubles was hardly the ideal city for a young Catholic family, but Bertha’s mother had been poorly and there was no other family left, so the two schoolteachers had moved in just before her passing. If anything were to happen to them, Mrs. Brady had promised Bertha over their weekly tea one Saturday, that she would raise Anne and keep her as safe as she could. If Ireland ever became too dangerous, she was to send the child to Bertha’s sister in Canada with a small treasure box to be opened on the eve of her sixteenth birthday.

Sadly, not two weeks later, both Bertha and Walter had been travelling home from a teaching conference when their train was bombed just outside the city centre and just like that, Orla became the surrogate mother of a wee nine-month-old. Anne had heard the story of how she lost her husband countless times; Daniel, a proud supporter of the IRA, had participated in and survived the first hunger strike, but fell ill and died shortly after the strike was called off. Mrs. Brady had sounded proud the first time young Anne had asked her on their walk home from school, but these days, she seemed to be exasperated by anything involved in the conflict. Anne couldn’t blame her. Recalling the many times her bus had been delayed or stopped and searched, Anne couldn’t imagine living in one of the towns or cities she’d seen in the news. Car bombings were becoming increasingly frequent and, while no bombs had been detonated on the bridge her bus crossed on the way to school, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

The sharp whistle of the kettle pulled Anne from her thoughts. Mrs. Brady quickly poured her a cup of tea and set it on the table. “Get started on your assignments for the evening,” she instructed. “I’ve got to nip out to the shops, but I’ll be back in time to finish making our supper.”

Little did Anne know, that would be the last time she saw her dear guardian. Not twenty minutes later, she heard a large bang.

* * *

“Have you got everything?” Anne’s social worker asked as they stood in departures at Belfast International Airport.

Social services had allowed her to attend the service held for Mrs. Brady and the two other victims of the car bomb, and to pack as many of her belongings as she could fit into two suitcases and her rucksack before arranging her flight to Canada.

“Not everything,” Anne sighed, remembering the books she’d been forced to part with. She did, however, have her most important belongings, a necklace given to her by Mrs. Brady on her thirteenth birthday and her mother’s treasure box. “I do wish I could have brought all me books, but I suppose I’ll manage.”

She had managed to fit her favourites in amongst her clothes, but the contents of her bookshelf were simply too great and far too heavy. Perhaps there would be a great library where she was headed though or a nice bookstore where she could replenish her collection.

“I’m so looking forward to meeting Aunt Marilla. And what an adventure this is! Mrs. Brady and I took the train down to Dublin to visit the national library for my birthday last year, but that’s the furthest I’ve ever been from home.”

“Well, you’ve got quite the journey ahead of you. Best be off before they board without you.”

The social worker walked Anne through security and sat with her until her flight was called to board.

“Very well,” the social worker said, guiding Anne to the queue of passengers. “Remember, you change twice; first in London, and again in Montreal. Your paperwork is in your hand luggage. Make sure you have it out and ready when you go through customs. If you run into any problems, my contact details are in your papers. Good luck, Miss Shirley.”

Before Anne knew it, she was handing her ticket to the gate agent and following the queue of people down the jet bridge, each step bringing her closer to a new chapter.

* * *

Anne was exhausted by the time her third and final flight began its descent over Prince Edward Island. Despite the fatigue of a long transatlantic journey however, she was quite alert and full of mixed emotions. For most of her life, Mrs. Brady had been the only family she’d ever known and just like that, she was gone, and Anne was taken from the only home she could remember.

She was devastated and overwhelmed with the grief of losing her surrogate mother but, on the other hand, she was excited to finally meet her relatives and to explore another part of the world. Her mother’s elder sister Marilla, Mrs. Brady told Anne, had moved to Nova Scotia to attend university and settled in Prince Edward Island shortly thereafter. Anne couldn’t wait to meet her. Surely she would be a kindred spirit, full of adventure with an imagination to boot.

“Please ensure your seatbelts are fastened, your tray-tables are upright, and your belongings are stored under the seat in front of you as we begin our descent to Charlottetown Airport.”

The pilot’s announcement pulled Anne from her thoughts. After being stuck in the middle seat for the first two legs of her trip, she had managed to secure a window seat. Glancing out the window, her excitement grew leaps and bounds. The mid-afternoon sky shone bright above a deep green mass of land surrounded by brilliant blue waters. The scene below her looked like the lands she described in her stories, like the coasts of her homeland on a rare sunny day. How Anne hoped the sun shone more frequently where she was headed. As romantical as she found the grey skies and drizzle of her homeland, it often grave off a dreary feel and she longed for days where she could wander beneath the warm sun.

Lost in her thoughts again, Anne continued to daydream until the plane jolted as it made contact with the ground. Before she knew it, Anne was following the herd of passengers toward customs and baggage, her new life waiting for her just beyond the security barriers.

* * *

Marilla Cuthbert was a rather unconventional, yet highly practical woman. She had chosen to attend a university in Nova Scotia to escape the Troubles that were quickly escalating in Belfast. Fearing for her safety as a Catholic woman, she had no desire to return to a city of conflict. Fortunately, she had made a dear friend during her studies and shortly after graduating, she married Matthew Cuthbert. There had never been any romantic feelings between the pair; they had grown to care for each other as if they were siblings, but the marriage had allowed Marilla to settle in Canada permanently and the pair were content enough with their life that they saw no reason to seek annulment.

Marilla had never intended to lose touch with her family in Ireland. In fact, she’d exchanged letters with her younger sister quite frequently until the replies ceased. That was fourteen years ago. Now, here she was, waiting at the airport for a niece she knew next to nothing about. She was apprehensive to bring an outsider into the small community of Avonlea, but she simply had no other choice. The girl was family, Matthew had reminded her; she’d be far better off living with them than she could ever be if she were placed in the foster system. Besides, she only had two years of schooling left before she’d be off to university. If the people of Avonlea proved to be as unwelcoming to her as they had been to Marilla in the beginning, she could leave once she graduated high school. In the meantime, Anne would be well looked after; at least, that’s what Marilla kept trying to convince herself as she waited for the girl to come through the security doors.

She wasn’t waiting long before the very girl in question arrived. Marilla could only stand in shock at the sight that stood before her as the automatic doors slid open. It was as if the ghost of fifteen-year-old Bertha McKeown had suddenly appeared before her. There was no mistaking the wavy red hair, pale green eyes, or smattering of freckles across the girl’s nose. Her younger sister’s daughter was the spitting image of her mother. Marilla was so surprised that she nearly lost sight of the girl who was now approaching the luggage carousel. Thankfully her red hair stood out well enough that Marilla spotted her just as quickly as she had moments ago.

“A-anne,” she stuttered, approaching the girl who was struggling to lift a heavy-looking bag off the belt. “Would you like some help with that?”

Lifting her bag (and nearly toppling over in the process), Anne turned around to see a woman with greying brown hair pulled neatly into a bun. Although she’d never seen the woman before, there was a subtle lilt to her voice that was more familiar than the North American accents she had been surrounded by in her travels.

“Oh, you must be my Aunt Marilla. I’m so glad to finally meet you!” She grinned. “I can manage alright, it’s just these two bags and my backpack.”

“Very well, child. If that’s all, we should be on our way. Your uncle should have supper ready by the time we arrive.”

Marilla led Anne out to the car park and helped her load her bags into the boot of a modest sedan. Once the trunk was latched shut, Anne stepped toward the left of the vehicle.

“After the journey you’ve had, you must be too tired to drive,” Marilla smiled, fondly remembering her earliest days in Canada.

“I’m not yet old enough to have my provisional,” Anne replied. She then realised her mistake. Flushing pink, she gasped, “Oh, right! I nearly forgot that people drive on the other side of the road here.”

“It’s alright, Anne. It takes a while to get used to at first.”

It was strange, Anne noted, riding on the right side of the road, but it was just one of many things that she knew she would have to adjust to in her new home. Although she was usually talkative to a fault, Anne found herself speechless as the pair drove in silence. Marilla seemed perfectly happy to keep quiet, so she stared out the window and began absorbing the beauty of her surroundings. About twenty-five minutes later, they came upon a small village.

“Avonlea,” Anne said slowly. “It sounds like a place out of a story book. Is this where we live, Aunt Marilla?”

“Yes. Matthew and I have a small dairy farm just outside town, Green Gables.”

“Green Gables is such a lovely name too! I think I’ll quite like it here.”

“I certainly hope so, child. But I must prepare you; this is a very small town and the islanders don’t tend to be so welcoming toward outsiders.”

“But you’re not from here either!”

“And it took quite a while for settle in. It’s a long story, but Matthew and I will be sure to tell you everything you must know.” She made the turn onto a long driveway, coming to a stop in front of a modest two-story white house with green trim.

“What sort of things?”

“Well, Anne, have you ever heard of soul marks?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I try to have at least one more chapter written than what I've got posted, so the next chapter should be up soon!


	2. Chapter 1

“Well, Anne, have you ever heard of soul marks?” Marilla asked as she pulled the key from the ignition.

“Soul marks? Like soulmates? I’ve read so many romantical stories and many of them have been about soulmates destined to be together. Is it like that?” Anne asked excitedly.

“Not exactly. But, like I said, we’ll tell you everything after we get you settled in. Come now, we should have just enough time for you to unpack your things before dinner.”

Before she knew it, Anne was lugging her bags up the stairs to her new bedroom in the east gable. “Now, we still have to get you a desk and the room’s a bit plain, but you should have plenty of space for all of your things,” Marilla told her, nodding toward the half open door at the end of the hall.”

“Oh, Aunt Marilla, it’s wonderful!” Anne gasped. “My desk will have to go by the window, though I may find myself staring out at the beautiful field of sunflowers in the distance rather than getting my work done…and I think fairy lights would look lovely above my bed. There’s so much scope for the imagination here!”

“Calm down, child. I suppose we can get a few decorations along with that desk, but I know you’ve had a long day and it’s time for supper.”

“And then you’ll tell me about soul marks?”

“The sooner you know, the easier it will be for you to adjust,” Marilla sighed. She hoped Anne would face less scrutiny than she and Matthew had all those years ago.

Matthew, Anne found out over dinner, was the quiet sort but there was an inherent kindness about him that assured her they would be kindred spirits. She learned that Green Gables had been in his family for generations and that he once thought he wanted to be a doctor but had returned to the farm when his father passed suddenly, and that he enjoyed farming well enough.

Marilla prepared a pot of tea while Anne helped clear the table and the three retired to the living room.

“Now Anne, I mentioned as we were driving through Avonlea that this is a small town and the community is very wary of outsiders,” Marilla began.

“And that has something to do with soul marks?”

“They say that people who belong to the island are born with a perfect match, someone with whom they are destined to spend the rest of their life. On a girl’s sixteenth birthday, a black mark appears on the inside of her wrist. For boys, it happens on their eighteenth.”

“How romantical!”

“It can be,” Marilla agreed. “But, things aren’t always so simple. There are records of the earliest settlers having soul marks, so the people of the island have come to believe that only those born and bred here truly belong.”

“But you’re not from here.”

“You bring me to my next point. Not everyone born here has a soul mark. It’s very rare, but occasionally someone is born without one.”

“Like me,” Matthew interrupted, staring at the ground. “This farm’s been in my family since the early 1800s. My father was born in the spare bedroom. I spent my whole life on this island, but my mark never appeared. I decided that I would go to university in Nova Scotia, maybe move to Toronto or Ottawa when I was finished; move far away from the people who no longer thought I belonged here, but then my father had a heart attack and Mother needed help with the farm.”

Marilla raised a brow at Matthew. Although they got on well, they lived largely in companionable silence. It was rare that he spoke so much all at once, and this was a difficult subject for him to boot. “That all happened right before exams at the end of our fourth year,” she added. “Just about the time my visa was going to expire. After four years of living comfortably without fear of being caught in the crossfire of the British and the IRA, I had no desire to return to Belfast. Matthew and I had become good friends during our time at university, so we agreed to marry each other out of convenience. I would be allowed to live a quiet life in Canada indefinitely and he wouldn’t have to face the scrutiny of Avonlea alone.”

“At first, people weren’t too welcoming of her, but they’re polite enough now,” Matthew added.

“I hope no one will be hostile to you, Anne, but they may be hesitant to accept you into the community. It’ll take some time, but people around here really are decent folk,” Marilla supplied, gently patting Anne’s hand from beside her on the sofa.

“Oh I do hope that people like me,” Anne said, just above a whisper. “Everything happened so fast that I didn’t get to say goodbye to my friends after Mrs. Brady passed. It would be so lonely to go through these next few years without any kindred spirits at school!”

“Like I said, the people of Avonlea are generally good. I know a few people with girls your age and I’m sure we can introduce you, but that’s a matter for another day. It’s getting late and you’ve had a long journey. I think it’s time to turn in for the night.”

* * *

Anne awoke the next morning to the sound of birds chirping and light flooding through her window, a far cry from the grey skies she was so used to. It took a few minutes for her to become accustom to her surroundings, a reminder that she was so far from her home. Her _old_ _home,_ she had to remind herself. Until she left for university, she would reside at Green Gables. As long as her lack of a soul mark didn’t cause too much strife, Anne was hopeful that she could be very happy here.

After dressing in a pair of jeans and her favourite oversized jumper and putting her hair into a French braid, Anne went downstairs to find Marilla reading a newspaper in the living room. She looked up from her paper as she heard Anne enter the room.

“Oh good, you’re up. I figured you could use a few extra hours of sleep after your travels, but I don’t want you making a habit of things.”

“Yes Aunt Marilla,” Anne agreed.

“The water in the kettle should still be hot enough for your tea and we’ve got bread for toast and a few different types of cereal if you want to get yourself some breakfast.”

“Okay. Would it be alright if I went outside after? There’s a beautiful tree outside my window that looks perfect for reading against!”

Marilla shook her head. “You’ll have all summer for that. We’ve got a few errands today to finish getting you settled in. We have to get you enrolled in school for the Fall. Then I was thinking we could look a new desk and maybe a few things for your room.”

Anne rushed through her breakfast and the two were on their way. Their first stop was Avonlea High School to enrol Anne for the upcoming school year. Age-wise, she was meant to enter Grade 10, but due to the different curriculums between countries, Anne was to return the next day for a series of placement exams to determine her class standing. From there, she and Marilla carried on their way, stopping at a few different shops to pick out a new desk, a bookshelf, and a few items to decorate Anne’s new room.

* * *

June turned to July, which quickly became August. Anne found that she was quite content to spend her days exploring the land around Green Gables. She discovered several reading spots; the big oak tree outside her window, the willows along Barry’s pond, the sandy beaches along the island’s northern coast. Her favourite spot, however, was along the edge of the neighbouring property’s orchard.

As promised, Marilla had introduced her to the Barry family across the pond. Their daughter, Diana was two months older than Anne and they got along splendidly. Mrs. Barry was wary of the fact that Anne was an outsider, but she and her husband agreed that exposing Diana to new cultures could only be a good thing.

The girls often took picnics to the beach, wandered around Green Gables, and occasionally spent afternoons hanging out in Diana’s air-conditioned bedroom on days when it was simply too hot to sit outside. Sometimes, a few of Diana’s schoolmates, Ruby and Jane, would join them. The girls were polite enough to Anne, but seemed guarded around her at first, unlike Diana who had quickly become her closest confidant. However, by the end of August, they were beginning to open up a bit.

To celebrate their final week before returning to school, Diana had the three girls over for a sleepover and, sprawled out on their pillows, the girls took it upon themselves to pepper Anne with questions.

“I’ve never met anyone that wasn’t from the island before! I have _so many_ questions for you,” Ruby began. “Do people from Ireland really sound like that? And does everyone have red hair like yours?”

How did you end up in Avonlea of all places?” Jane added.

Anne’s eyes widened, taken aback by the sudden onslaught of questions from two girls she hardly knew. None of their conversations thus far had contained anything of substance; just exchanges of pleasantries and light small talk. Taking a deep breath, she figured she might as well answer them as best as she could.

“Erm, I suppose we all sound sort of similar, but there are different regional accents. I never really noticed mine until I came here,” Anne told them honestly. “Not _everyone_ has red hair but it’s not uncommon. I won’t be dreadfully singled out for it, will I?” She had never really given much thought to her hair before. Sure, there were times where she admired girls with raven hair like Diana’s or blonde ringlets like Ruby’s. She had even tried to dye it a deep brown once (thankfully, Mrs. Brady stopped her before she could do any damage), but she was never truly unhappy with the colour.

“You’re the first person with red hair I’ve ever met,” Ruby told her. “So you’ll definitely stand out, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing. A bit unusual here, but it’s a pretty shade that definitely suits you,” she reassured kindly.

“People are more likely to question why you’ve come to the island,” Jane pointed out.

“Yeah, Anne. You still haven’t told us why you’ve come to Avonlea.”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Anne sighed. “I was born in Belfast, Ireland—or Northern Ireland depending on who you ask—where there’s been a bit of a civil war happening since the 1960s. Me mam and da died in a train bombing shortly before my first birthday an’ I fell into the care of a good family friend. When I was about ten, we moved to a small town in County Derry to because Mrs. Brady thought it would be safer.” She paused, taking a deep breath. This was the first time she’d ever really had to talk about losing the woman who had raised her for fourteen years and it was proving much more difficult than she had thought.

“Back in May, she went to the shops. I-I heard a loud bang about twenty minutes later. Turns out a car bomb went off just outside the shop as she was leaving. She never came home.” A tear ran down her cheek as she mentally relived the evening.

Ruby gasped and Jane stared in shock.

“Oh, Anne!” Diana sympathised, wrapping her arms around her friend. “How terrible.” She reached over to her nightstand and handed Anne a tissue.

Anne wiped her eyes before continuing. “Aunt Marilla is my mother’s older sister. She went to Nova Scotia to escape the violence and moved here after she married Uncle Matthew. They’re my only living family, so here I am.”

Ruby looked at her quizzically. “But if you’re not from here, that means you don’t have a soul mar—"

“—Ruby!” Diana cut her off. “You can’t just ask things like that.”

“It’s fine, Di, really,” Anne assured her friend. “No, Ruby, I suppose I won’t get a soul mark like I assume the rest of you will. But that’s okay. I plan to be the bride of adventure and no boy can ever stop me!”

From there, the tone in the room brightened immensely, Ruby and Jane forgetting their plans to grill Anne. A few stories (and some gossiping) later, Anne had found her first set of friends on the island.

* * *

When school began the following week, she was pleased to discover that she had some classes with Diana. She had tested mostly into Grade 11 classes, but would be taking a few Grade 12 courses as well. Diana would be in French and Geometry with her, but she would be on her own for much of the day. She was hopeful, though, that her other classmates would prove to be at least half as kind as her dear bosom friend.

Their first class of the day, Geometry, went well enough. Anne sat beside Diana and managed to blend in well enough. Aside from hearing a few muffled whispers behind her, Anne thought the day was off to a good start. French class, however, would be an entirely different matter.

When they received their schedules, Diana had warned Anne that she didn’t like Mr. Phillips and Anne could quickly see why. From the moment the bell rang, the man was unpleasant and pretentious. Even worse, he seemed to have it in for her.

“By now, you should all be nearly fluent, though I’m certain none of you are,” he began his lesson. “Especially those of whom seem to think they can just show up and enrol in my advanced class.” Anne could feel her cheeks redden as Mr. Phillips stared pointedly at her. “We’ll start off with an easy worksheet before I hand out your assigned reading for the quarter. Translate the sentences on page 37 of your textbook to French.”

“This should be easy,” Anne whispered to Diana, looking at the page.

“I didn’t say you could speak,” Mr. Phillips barked from his desk. “I see the new girl’s volunteered to translate that first sentence for us. On the board Miss…”

“Shirley. Anne Shirley, with an E,” the girl responded hesitantly, all too aware of the lilt of her accent.

“Whatever. We don’t have all day.”

Anne walked up to the board, ready to translate the sentence _I go shopping for new shoes_ into French.

_Je vais faire du shopping pour de nouvelles chaussures,_ she wrote in her neat script.

“Wrong!” Phillips shouted. “I know you must think you’re cultured or above everyone else because you’re European, but we speak Canadian French in this classroom. He strode to the board and wrote _Je vais magasiner de nouvelles souliers,_ as Anne sunk back into her seat, her face bright red, failing to hide her humiliation. It wasn’t her fault that she had only ever been taught European French and there was no way for her to know there was a difference until Mr. Phillips put her on the spot.

Mr. Phillips called a few more unfortunate students to the board and was only marginally more encouraging toward them than he had been to Anne. She was grateful that he didn’t single her out further during class and felt a wave of relief wash over her as they were all instructed to begin their assigned reading while he tended to his independent study student at the back of the room.

Anne tried to focus on the pages in front of her, but she could feel a pair of eyes boring into the back of her head. She did her best to ignore the tapping on her left shoulder and the whispers of “Hey,” and “Anne,” that came with it, growing increasingly frustrated as the nuisance persisted until she felt a tug on her ponytail accompanied by, “Hey, Carrots!”

That was the final straw. Without thinking, she grabbed her spiral notebook and turned around, hitting her antagoniser over the head in the process. “Stop yer slobbering and leave me alone, you fecking eejit!” she shouted, her Belfast accent stronger than ever.

“Miss Shirley! That is unacceptable!” Mr. Phillips marched over to her desk. “I have half a mind to give you detention, but that would mean spending even more time in your presence. Instead I’d like a 500-word summary of the book we’re reading on my desk by Monday. In _Canadian_ French.”

Anne’s heart sunk deep into the pit of her stomach. There was no way she’d be able to learn a whole new dialect in just a week. And if people hadn’t been judging her before, they certainly were now. Thankfully, she was put out of her misery by the bell signalling that it was time for lunch. She couldn’t get out of the French classroom fast enough.

Fuming, she packed up her things and made to follow Diana to the cafeteria. How dare that boy call her something as obscene as carrots? As if she hadn’t been humiliated enough by the whispers all morning and Mr. Phillips’ condescension, he had to antagonise her to a breaking point. She began to tell Diana as such, but was interrupted by a now all too familiar voice calling her name.

“Anne! Anne!” It grew louder as he got closer.

She stopped and turned around. “What do you want now?” she asked exasperated, rolling her eyes.

“I, uh, just wanted to apologise. I tried to tell Phillips that it was my fault, but he wouldn’t budge,” the boy told her, running a hand through his dark brown curls. “If you want, I can do the extra assignment for you.”

Anne’s temper was still flaring. “I’m perfectly capable! And how do I know this isn’t an attempt to sabotage me? I’ll do it myself.” She turned back to Diana who had just watched everything unfold. “Let’s go Di.”

“How dare he?” she asked Diana, still angry. “Who does he think he is?”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm, Anne. I don’t know him very well, but he’s always seemed like a nice guy.” Diana told her. “Gilbert Blythe is one of the smartest and most attractive boys in Avonlea. He’s been captain of the hockey team since he was in Grade 10 and Ruby’s had a crush on him for years.”

By the time they reached the cafeteria, it was packed and buzzing with the sounds of people catching up with their friends after a long summer. Thankfully Ruby, Jane, and a few other girls Anne didn’t recognise had managed to secure a table with plenty of room for Anne and Diana, who had arrived just in time to hear Ruby gush over Gilbert.

“He’s somehow managed to get even cuter over the summer,” she sighed. “I do hope he finally realises we’re meant to be together before he goes away to university next year.”

The other girls nodded, some of them rolling their eyes. After watching Ruby pine after him for years, most of them knew it was a hopeless matter, but no one had the heart to upset their friend.

“Well, he certainly noticed Anne,” one of the other girls—Josie Pye, who Anne was certain she would not get on well with—sneered. “I saw the two of them talking in the hallway just before lunch.”

Ruby frowned and Anne could have sworn she watched the girl’s heart sink.

“It wasn’t like that and you know it, Josie!” Diana defended her new friend. “Besides, Anne made it perfectly clear that she wants nothing to do with him.”

Ruby perked up a bit at the latter statement. “Really?”

“He’s such a pretentious prick. I don’t know who he thinks he is, tugging on my hair and calling me a horrid name. And then he had the gall to offer to do the extra work Phillips assigned me!” Anne ranted.

“Don’t be like that Anne, I’m sure he was just trying to be nice. He’s such a sweet guy,” Ruby argued in defence of her crush. “I can’t wait for the season to start. Maybe he’ll let me wear his jersey!”

“Maybe,” Jane agreed. “Hey Tilly, have you figured out what to do about the two boys you’ve been dating?” she asked the other girl sitting at their table. Sure enough the girls spent the rest of lunch hearing about Tilly’s indecisiveness, eventually coming to the consensus that her soul mark would choose for her if she didn’t make up her mind in the next few weeks.

Before Anne knew it, they were all filtering out of the cafeteria and headed to their next class. Anne would be headed to Grade 12 Advanced Placement English Literature, as she had tested into the highest level offered at the school. The only girl headed in the same direction as her was Josie who, to Diana’s concern, offered to show Anne to the classroom. Anne, none the wiser, accepted her offer appreciatively.

The rest of the girls set off in the opposite direction while Anne and Josie walked in silence until they reached Anne’s classroom.

“Look Anne, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but Ruby called dibs on Gilbert Blythe four years ago. You need to stay away from him or I’ll make sure the rest of the girls see you as the foreign trash you are,” Josie threatened. “It’s bad enough that they insist on associating with someone who doesn’t belong on this island as it is.”

Anne stared at her with concern, remembering Marilla’s warning that people may have a problem with her simply because she wasn’t from the island. She was lucky that Diana’s friends—save Josie—had been kind to her so far. The last thing she wanted to do was upset them. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she answered Josie.

“Honestly, I can’t stand the bloke. You’ve really got nothing to worry about.”

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” Josie gave Anne no time to answer before she left for her own class. Their exchange had taken so long that Anne was the last one to enter the classroom and there was only one seat left. She groaned inwardly when she saw who it was next to.

“Carrots!” Gilbert Blythe grinned mischievously as Anne begrudgingly slid into the seat next to him.

Her time at Avonlea High School was definitely not off to a cracking start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading!


	3. Chapter 2

Anne managed to survive the entirety of AP English without any further annoyances from Gilbert. Their teacher, Miss Stacey, was the polar opposite of Mr. Phillips and Anne was certain that her class would easily be her favourite, though her creative writing elective would certainly compete for the honour. The only downside to the class was that Miss Stacey informed them that where they sat would be their assigned seats for the remainder of the semester. However, Anne was certain she could continue to ignore Gilbert just as easily as she had managed so far.

The rest of the day was uneventful and before Anne knew it, she and Diana were walking back toward their homes. Once the weather turned, they would have to take the bus—or convince Diana’s mother to drive them—but Summer had barely ended.

It was a breezy, sunny afternoon and as it was the first day of school, none of Anne’s teachers bar Mr. Phillips had assigned any work, so Anne figured she’d take the opportunity to get started on her reading. Having a full summary of the novel completed in a week would be tiresome, but ultimately, she knew that it would backfire on Phillips when she got their semester reading assignment out of the way early. Promising Marilla she’d be back before dinner, Anne took her French novel and notebook to work beneath her favourite tree in the neighbour’s orchard.

Anne managed to read the first few chapters with little difficulty. The book was a bit dry and dull for her liking, but she could understand most of it without relying on context clues. Assuming she received few assignments the next day, she would be able to finish the novel quickly. Writing the summary would be tricky, however, since she wasn’t familiar with the differences between traditional and Canadian French.

After nearly two hours of reading, she was packing up her things when she saw a figure approaching in the distance. She couldn’t help the groan that escaped when she saw who it was.

Gilbert Blythe was walking toward her, eating a barely ripe apple that he must have plucked from one of the trees on his way. Anne knew he had seen her and making a run for it would be pointless—especially since he was coming from the same direction she needed to go.

“Are you literally everywhere?” she asked him, unable to hide her annoyance.

He chuckled. “No, but this is my family’s orchard. It’d make more sense if I were to ask what you’re doing here.”

Anne could feel the redness creeping into her cheeks. “Erm, sorry. It’s just, this is a really lovely tree for reading under and I didn’t think I was bothering anyone, but I’ll find somewhere else next time,” she said, embarrassed.

“No, don’t stop using it on my account. Though you may need to keep an eye out for falling apples in a few weeks.”

“Really, I am sorry. I’ve got other reading spots I can go to.”

“It’s fine, honestly. If anyone should be apologising, it’s me. You wouldn’t have so much reading if I hadn’t provoked you.”

Anne shrugged. “It’s not too much of a problem. I’ll have the reading finished by tomorrow evening. It’s the different dialect that I’m going to struggle with.”

“I could help you with that, you know,” Gilbert told her earnestly, smiling genuinely. “I’ve only learned the Canadian dialect.”

Anne thought for a moment. On the one hand, she really disliked the guy for calling her Carrots and embarrassing her in front of her new classmates. On the other, she didn’t want to give Mr. Phillips any more ammunition against her. She raised a brow. “Why should I trust you?”

Gilbert smirked. “Because I thrive on competition. I’ve held top mark in every high school class I’ve taken, purely on merit but something tells me you’re a force to be reckoned with. If we were studying classical French, I have a feeling you’d give us all a run for our money.”

Anne nodded. “Alright, we’ll give it a go. But if Phillips finds any flaws in my essay, I’m finding a new revision partner.”

Gilbert grinned. Despite his friends’ aversion to the non-islander, he had found himself fascinated by her. He was sick of girls just staring at him and giggling. Anne seemed much different and he found himself content with any amount of attention she was willing to give him, even if it wasn’t positive by any stretch.

“Fair enough,” he agreed. “Let’s meet at this spot in two days to get started on that essay of yours. That should give you time to finish enough of the book.”

With a plan to meet up in a few days, Anne made her way back to Green Gables, unsure whether or not she was looking forward to studying with the boy. He was quite attractive with his broad muscular frame, hazel eyes and deep brown curls that bordered just on the edge of too long. However, he had absolutely humiliated her on her first day at a new school. Add to that Josie’s threat and Anne didn’t know what to make of the situation.

She didn’t want to risk losing the few friends she’d made, but she certainly wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. If she could beat Gilbert for the top mark in French, Mr. Phillips wouldn’t have any reason to alienate her, and she would have the satisfaction of being smarter than the boy who seemed to be good at everything. Surely Ruby would understand that she harboured no feelings for the boy beyond a rivalry. Besides, he would likely be turning eighteen soon and his soul mark would appear. It didn’t matter if his mark would match the one Ruby would get on her sixteenth; Anne’s wrist would remain bare.

Anne decided she simply wouldn’t tell the girls for the time being. After all, the only time she _might_ have to interact with Gilbert at school was in her English class and there was no way her new friends would ever find out. As long as they met along the edge of his orchard and the Green Gables property, they would be able to study without anyone finding out either.

Her time in Avonlea sure would be interesting.

* * *

The next few days were uneventful. Mr. Phillips was proving to be the bane of Anne’s existence, but Miss Stacey taught her Creative Writing elective in addition to her English class. She had Chemistry with Ruby, Jane, and—to her chagrin—Josie; Diana was in her PE class and Gilbert in AP European History.

To Anne’s surprise, studying with Gilbert was even going well. He was proving to be as smart as he claimed, but Anne was keeping up with him. Even better, her friends were unaware that they were meeting up.

Ruby continued to moon over Gilbert at lunch and Josie continued her verbal attempts to alienate Anne, but the rest of the girls seemed to reach the consensus that it didn’t matter that Anne wasn’t from Prince Edward Island, though anytime someone mentioned soul marks, she would find herself on the receiving end of pitying looks.

Anne continued to avoid Gilbert in school as much as possible. Other students continued to give her cautious looks and she was certain that half their whispering was about her, but she paid it as little mind as possible. Aside from Josie Pye, the people she interacted with daily were nothing but kind.

By the third week of school, Anne had fallen into a routine. At least once a week, she would hang out with Diana. Sometimes at least one of the other girls would join them. Most other days, Anne would take her homework or whatever book she was reading out to the Blythe orchard. Some days Gilbert would join her and they’d study. They never made arrangements to meet while in school and Anne honestly didn’t mind, especially if it meant her friends never caught wind of their acquaintanceship. This Friday, however, was different.

The day started out just as any other. Anne attended her classes, somehow managed to get through Mr. Phillips’ class without being singled out, and spent most of lunch listening to Tilly’s latest boy troubles. English class wasn’t anything out of the ordinary either. She listened intently to Miss Stacey and engaged in class discussion as passionately as she always had when it came to discussing literature until just before the bell rang.

Gilbert turned to face her at their shared table. “So I was thinking,” he began.

“Is that ever a good idea?”

Gilbert ignored her, rolling his eyes. “The weather’s supposed to be particularly nice tomorrow. I have to hit the gym with some of the team in the morning, but maybe we could meet at our spot around noon. Wouldn’t hurt to get a little extra studying in for Monday’s French test,” he shrugged.

“Quare,” she agreed. “I’ll see ye tomorrow.”

When the bell rang, she was still packing her things, lost in thought about her weekend plans. Diana had invited her over for the evening and they would be shopping in Charlottetown with the other girls on Sunday if Marilla agreed to let her go, so she probably would have been studying tomorrow afternoon anyways. She smiled, thinking about well things seemed to be going when she heard a few familiar voices ahead of her. Looking up, she saw that it was Gilbert and a couple of boys who must be his friends.

“What were you doing talking to the new girl?” one of the boys asked.

“Yeah, Gil, I don’t know why you’re wasting your time. She’ll never be one of us,” another agreed. The third boy just laughed.

Gilbert shrugged. “I don’t really care where she came from, a cute girl’s a cute girl.” He smirked.

The boys all muttered some form of agreement while Anne, still walking behind them turned beet red. Her anger and frustration had her on the verge of tears, but lashing out would only draw unwanted attention and she’d already experienced enough of that. Luckily, the perfect opportunity arose as Gilbert stopped at one of the lockers.

“I’ll see you boys later,” she overheard him say before the rest of the group continued on their way. She took that opportunity to sidle up to him.

“Just so you know, I heard what you said to them,” she said, her icy tone dripping with anger. “And if you think we’re still studying together, you’ve got another thing comin’ to ye.” Having said her piece, she walked off, making it to Chemistry lab just in time.

* * *

Anne had an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach all afternoon and couldn’t figure out why. When Ruby asked what was wrong, she brushed it off as a headache and asked her to tell Diana that she was going straight home but would see her later. Anne enjoyed their walks home together, but she needed time to think.

She just couldn’t figure out why Gilbert’s comment bothered her so much. Realistically, she knew she didn’t harbour any feelings toward the boy and, even if she did, it would be useless. It would be useless to develop romantic feelings for him or anyone else on this island. Perhaps she was simply looking for reasons to dislike the boy who teased her about her hair. Either way, his words stung. _All_ of their words stung. Why should anyone give the poor foreign girl the time of day? Maybe the only reason his words bothered her the most was because she didn’t know the other guys. Either way, trying to sort everything out was giving her an actual headache.

Marilla was sitting on the porch with a cup of tea and a book when Anne reached Green Gables. She greeted her aunt a bit more subdued that she normally would and informed the woman that she was going up to her room to take a quick nap before heading over to Diana’s.

As soon as Anne closed her bedroom door behind her, tears welled up in her eyes. The more she thought about what happened that afternoon, the more she missed her life back in Ireland. No one ever made comments about her hair or told her who she couldn’t talk to. Mrs. Brady may not have been related to her, but together they belonged in that little house in Banbridge. The homesickness she’d managed to stave off for nearly five months struck her in full force and she continued to cry until she completely exhausted herself.

* * *

Light was filtering in through her sheer curtains when Anne awoke the next morning. She had slept soundly and was feeling much better than she had the day before until she realised that she was wearing the same clothes she’d come home from school in.

Suddenly, Anne shot upright. Her heart felt like it was about to leap out of her chest as a wave of panic washed over her. “Diana!” she exclaimed. _She’s going to be so upset with me._ Anne leapt down the stairs two at a time.

“Calm down, child,” Marilla chided her as she entered the kitchen.

“But I never woke up from my nap! I haven’t spoken to Diana since lunch yesterday. She’s going to think I’m a terrible friend for standing her up like that.”

Marilla poured a fresh cup of tea for Anne. “I tried to wake you for supper, but you must have exhausted yourself. Don’t worry, I called the Barrys and told them you weren’t coming.”

“Thank you, Aunt Marilla!” Anne sat at the table and began fixing her tea how she liked it. “I would just hate to upset my dearest friend here.”

“I’m sure Diana will understand,” Marilla reassured her. The two sipped their tea and ate their breakfast in companionable silence. Anne had learnt that her aunt wasn’t the most talkative woman, especially in the morning.

When she was finished with her breakfast, Anne got up to rinse her mug in the sink.

“Do you have anything planned for today?” Marilla asked her.

Anne’s heart sank for what felt like the millionth time in the past day. She wouldn’t be studying with Gilbert, but she really did need to prepare for her test. The air was noticeably colder than it had been even a week ago and she knew it would be foolish to waste the last of the nice weather, especially if Canadian winters were as harsh as she’d heard.

“I have a bit of revising to do for a French test. Do you mind if I work outside?”

Marilla nodded. “Just as long as you complete your assignments,” she consented. “And come back in time to wash up before supper.”

“Thank you, Aunt Marilla. I suppose I should change my clothes and then I’ll be on my way.” With that, she returned to her room to gather her things before venturing out.

Without thinking, Anne began her trek toward the Blythe orchard but realised her folly as soon as the apple trees came into view. After yesterday, she could hardly work under her favourite tree; even without Gilbert present, it didn’t feel right. Besides, there a good chance of running into Gilbert there and that was simply out of the question. Her second favourite spot would have to do. With that in mind, she made her way toward the coast.

* * *

Gilbert hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Anne since she cancelled their plans. He could understand why she would be upset by his friends’ comments, but his response to them had been harmless. To him, it didn’t matter where she had come from; she was proving to be an excellent study partner and he found himself drawn to her for some reason that he couldn’t place.

He didn’t skip his Saturday morning lift with his teammates, but he was notably distracted for most of it; definitely not the way a captain should be around his team, he noted. But he couldn’t stop seeing the hurt in Anne’s eyes and hearing the chilling tone of her voice by his locker the day before. Gilbert knew that he needed to apologise to her even if he didn’t know what he did wrong, but it would take a bit of thought to figure out just how to go about it.

Whenever something was troubling him, Gilbert liked to channel his energy into exercise, so that’s exactly what he did. As soon as he returned home, the boy informed his parents that he would be going for a long run and took off down the familiar path. He knew it would be futile to check for Anne by what he had come to think of as _their_ tree, but he couldn’t help but look as he passed through the orchard.

He maintained a steady pace as he reached the edge of the beach. Anytime things had gotten particularly tough for him in the past, he had always gone to a secluded stretch of land where the grass met the sand. When he was younger—about nine or ten years old—Gilbert had stumbled upon this spot when he was out playing with his friends. There was a large boulder that overlooked the sea. Sometimes he would sit on it and let the sound of the waves crashing against the shore soothe him. No one had ever bothered him here before, so it was no wonder, really, that his legs had brought him here. However, as he grew closer to his rock, he noticed that there was someone sitting nearby.

Of course, Anne would find the one spot Gilbert went to when he wanted to be alone. She was far enough from the rock and appeared to be engrossed in whatever book she was reading, though, so Gilbert was optimistic that he could sit on the rock without attracting any notice.

He had only been sitting there for a few moments when he heard a familiar voice shout, “Must you turn up everywhere?” She was marching toward him.

By now, Gilbert knew better than to shout back, especially since the book Anne had with her appeared to be much more solid than a spiral notebook. “I didn’t mean to bother you, Anne,” he told her honestly. “I was just out on a run and stopped here to think.”

Anne’s expression softened, but Gilbert thought he could still see some lingering frustration in her eyes. “Oh.”

He stared at her silently for a moment, awkwardly trying to find the right words. “I think I, uh, I think I owe you an apology.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously.

She raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m sorry my friends were such pricks yesterday. And I suppose I’m sorry that I didn’t defend you better to them.”

Anne sighed. “Look, I know I’m never going to truly belong here,” she began. “I’m reminded of that constantly whether people say anything about me or not. With my accent and this hair,” she tugged on the end of her ponytail to prove a point, “there’s no hiding that I’m not from here.”

He gave her a pitying look. “I suppose I could have been a bit more tactful and I’m sorry for that. To me, it doesn’t matter where you’re from, that’s all I meant.” He slid over to make room for her on the rock. “I like studying with you and think we could be good friends.”

She nodded, listening to his explanation. She was still upset with how he had talked about her to his friends, but after that first day of school he hadn’t given her any other reason to mistrust him. And, it was much easier to study for French with someone who had a better understanding of the regional dialect. It hadn’t taken her long to give up and switch to reading the novel she’d borrowed from the school library. “I guess I can forgive you,” she said tentative. “I don’t know if I’d be able to survive Phillips’ lessons on my own.”

Gilbert chuckled. “If you’ve got your notes with you, we could review now,” he suggested. “There’s plenty of room on my rock.”

And that’s how Anne spent the rest of her Saturday afternoon, pouring over her French notes with Gilbert Blythe, her anger almost completely forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more I write, the clearer my vision is becoming for this fic. Thanks again for reading! I'll have the next chapter out as soon as I can.
> 
> "Quare," for those of whom haven't heard the term, means something along the lines of "good" or "belter" in this context.


	4. Chapter 3

Things improved between Anne and Gilbert after that day at the beach. They continued to keep their interactions at school to a bare minimum, but spent more time than ever studying together after school and occasionally on the weekends. Anne still heard the occasional whisper and was often on the receiving end of glaring looks when in town with Matthew and Marilla, but for the most part, her friends gave no indication that they didn’t think she belonged with them.

The days began to grow colder, and Anne was pleasantly surprised with Avonlea’s beauty as green leaves faded to brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows. She was delighted and awestruck with the visibly change in seasons and excited for the first snowfall, albeit wary of the dreaded coldness she’d heard so much about. Growing up in Ireland meant cooler summers than the one she’d just experienced, but it also meant that the winters weren’t as harsh.

As September turned into October, Anne found that she was really enjoying school. Anne had chosen to take History, English, French, and Creative Writing for her A-levels, so Geometry was proving to be difficult as she hadn’t taken a maths course in a few years. Thankfully Gilbert was willing to help her with that and in turn, she would proofread his AP English and European History essays as she was quickly proving herself worthy of holding the top mark in both classes much to the chagrin of her slightly older peers.

Anne was also much busier, having joined the Creative Writing Club and the school newspaper. Although she couldn’t convince Diana to join herself and Ruby in Creative Writing, she was pleased to discover that Diana was a photographer for the paper and yearbook. Hockey season had also started, which meant that between their extracurriculars, Anne and Gilbert had less time to study together outwith school hours. Gilbert had quickly picked up on the fact that Anne didn’t want people to know that they were spending time together and tried his best to respect that, even though it stung. However, the cold weather and their schedules both made it increasingly difficult for them to study outside, which is how they managed to find themselves seated across from each other at a small café one afternoon.

“How do you manage to drink so much of that stuff?” Gilbert asked Anne as she returned to their table with her third cup of tea. They had completed their French assignment and were taking a break before starting on History.

Anne shrugged. “I’ve had at least four cups every day since I was about eleven.”

Gilbert chuckled from behind his mug of hot chocolate. “So the ole British stereotype is true.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Probably is, but I’m _Irish_!” she said, indignant. “And contrary to popular knowledge, we actually consume more tea per capita than the UK.”

Gilbert nodded, looking a bit puzzled. “But you’re from Belfast, right?” Anne nodded. “Isn’t that part of the UK?”

“That’s what all the fightin’ ye sometimes see in the news is all about. Ireland’s split up into four provinces. Leinster, Munster, and Connacht make up the Republic of Ireland. Since the 60s, there’s been a civil war of sorts in Ulster, which is where I’m from.” Anne took a sip of her tea and looked at Gilbert to make sure he was following her. “Some people—largely Protestants—think Ulster should be British and others—Catholics like myself—think Ulster should be recognised as part of the republic. There’s been a lot of bombings. That’s how I lost me parents; they were killed in a train bombing when I was a baby. After all the violence and suffering that the British have inflicted on my people, I could never consider myself anything but Irish.” She didn’t know why she was telling Gilbert all of this, but she had a gut feeling that she could trust him not to go running his mouth about the poor orphan girl.

“Wow,” Gilbert responded, searching for the right words.

“I would still have my parents if the British had just left us alone, so I’ll be proudly Irish until the day I die,” she told him, a fierceness behind her eyes that he had often seen in English class whenever she was arguing her point.

“What about yourself?” she asked, figuring she might as well learn about his cultural identity since she had shared so much about her own. “Do you consider yourself Canadian or an islander?”

Gilbert thought for a moment. “Both, I guess. I’ve never really thought about it. We’re taught that we belong to the island from such a small age that I think most people here would consider themselves islanders above all else, but there’s so much more to this country.” He smiled. “I went to a hockey camp out in Alberta over the summer and it was incredible. It made me realise that I want to see more than the small towns of PEI.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, their homework long forgotten. It was the longest time, Gilbert realised, that they’d had a normal conversation. As much as he enjoyed studying with the girl, he wanted to know more about her than what she thought of their assignments.

For the next half hour, they chatted about growing up in their respective countries. Anne taught him a few Irish phrases and Gilbert tried to explain the rules of hockey. The two were having such a good time laughing together that neither one saw the three girls who came in to pick up drinks to-go.

Jane, Tilly, and Ruby, however spotted Anne and Gilbert almost immediately. Jane and Tilly ordered their drinks while Ruby just stared at the pair tearfully, having lost any sort of appetite. Anne knew how much she liked Gilbert. Ruby couldn’t believe that someone she considered to be a friend would go behind her back and date Gilbert like that. She felt an arm wrap around her shoulder as Tilly gave her a sympathetic hug. “Maybe Josie was right,” she told Ruby, who just nodded tearfully. “We really can’t trust those outsiders.” Ruby was about to respond in agreement when Jane returned from the counter with two drinks in hand.

Anne and Gilbert were so caught up in their conversation that not only did they neglect to notice Anne’s friends, but they completely lost track of time. Before they knew it, they were scrambling to pack up their things; Gilbert so that he wouldn’t be late for practice and Anne, hoping that she would make it home in time for dinner.

“You know, our first home game of the season is this Friday,” Gilbert told Anne as they stood to leave. “You should definitely come out and watch us, you know, for the whole cultural experience of it all.” He didn’t know why he said the latter bit, but he really hoped Anne would be there. “And Charlie’s throwing a party at his house after,” he added. “It should be fun.”

Anne nodded, wrapping her scarf tightly around her neck. Although it was only October, she had discovered that the Canadian Autumn was much more akin to the winter weather she was used to. “I’ll ask the girls about it at lunch tomorrow. I’m sure I can convince at least one of them to join me.” Gilbert smiled, hopeful. As the two approached the door to the café, they said their goodbyes before heading off in opposite directions.

* * *

The next morning at school, Anne noticed that something was off. On her way to Geometry, she had passed Jane and Tilly separately and, instead of returning her greetings, each girl had glared at her and continued on their way. Ever perceptive, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had done something to upset them. Perhaps Josie’s mean words were starting to take hold with the girls she had come to consider friends. It was something she would be sure to ask Diana about.

Thankfully, Anne thought, Diana had arrived to class even earlier than she. With several minutes before the bell, only a few other students were in the classroom, most of them still half-asleep. “Thank goodness you’re here, Di!” Anne said to her friend as she slid into the desk next to her. Diana just gave her a cold look in reply. Anne’s face fell. “What’s wrong, Di?” she asked, unsure what she had done to upset her friend.

“Tell me it’s not true,” said Diana ambiguously.

“That what’s not true? I haven’t the foggiest…”

“Tell me you’re not dating Gilbert Blythe.” Anne burst out laughing. What a ridiculous idea, she thought. Sure she and Gilbert were starting to become friends, but even if he didn’t have a soulmate out there somewhere on the island, she could never imagine him as anything more than a friend.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she managed to get out through her laughter.

Diana’s expression softened. Having witnessed their first meeting, she found it odd when the other girls had told her that they’d been spotted on a date, but she couldn’t help but wonder. “Ruby, Tilly, and Jane saw you sitting at the café together last night. They said you looked pretty comfortable together.”

“Oh, Di, that was far from a date! We’re in a few of the same classes so we study together sometimes is all.” Anne’s face fell as she realised what Diana had been saying. “Oh, poor Ruby! She must be devastated, thinking that I’ve gone behind her back.” She stood up to leave. “Do you know which class she has first? I must apologise to her!”

“Anne,” Diana called out to stop her. “It’s no use. She’s pretty upset and I don’t think she’ll listen to you just yet. I’m sure we can smooth things over during lunch.” Anne sighed and returned to her seat. She felt truly horrible that she had done something to upset one of the few people in Avonlea who had been so kind to her. This was exactly why she had been avoiding Gilbert at school. If only Josie hadn’t threatened her, maybe she would have told her friends about their study arrangement.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Anne was simultaneously distracted by and worried about how she could smooth things over with Ruby and the other girls. Diana, ever the supportive friend had bailed her out a few times already, nudging her when their geometry teacher asked her a question and when Mr. Phillips appeared to notice her inability to focus. Before she knew it, the two girls were approaching their usual table. Anne’s heart was pounding, and her feet felt like they were stuck in wet cement as they grew closer to where she could see the other four girls. “It’ll be okay,” Diana whispered to her. “You’ll see.”

As they reached the table, the girls broke from their conversation. “You can sit with us, Diana, but Anne is no longer welcome here,” Tilly told them sternly, shooting daggers at Anne, who felt as if her heart had sunk to the floor.

“Girls, there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding,” Diana told them calmly. “Please hear Anne out.”

“Why should we?” asked Jane.

“Because I’m not dating Gilbert Blythe!” Anne interjected. “Diana told me you saw us yesterday. I assure you, whatever you saw was totally innocent. We’re in a bunch of the same classes, so we study together sometimes, that’s all,” she explained as best as she could.

“Why did you look so cosy together, then?” Ruby asked, her voice smaller than Anne had ever heard it. She looked sadly into the girl’s ocean blue eyes.

Anne thought for a moment. “He started helping me with French at the beginning of the school year and I suppose we’ve sort of become friends over the past few weeks. Even if there wasn’t the matter of soul marks to consider, I wouldn’t be interested in him like that. I could never do that to you, Ruby,” she told the girl sincerely. Ruby seemed to believe her because she then told the girls that Anne could stay, to which Anne grinned. Josie did try to refute the idea with an “I don’t know if we should trust anything she says. She is an outsider, you know.” Diana angrily told her to stuff it and the suggestion fell on deaf ears as the rest of the girls ate there lunches quietly, the tension noticeably lighter.

Before the end of lunch, Anne informed the girls that Gilbert had invited them to the game and to Charlie Sloane’s party afterwards. They all began making plans for Friday night, Ruby barely able to contain her excitement at being invited somewhere by her crush. Although Anne knew his invitation had been a friendly one—directed at her—she was glad that the girl seemed to have forgiven her. Although she was a bit worried about attending the party, Anne was really looking forward to seeing her first hockey game and was happy that she would be able to do so surrounded by friends.

* * *

The rest of the week seemed to drag on slowly, but finally, Friday afternoon had arrived. Despite Josie’s jeering comments, Anne seemed to have smoothed things over with her friends and they were all quite looking forward to Charlie’s party. On the walk home from school that evening, though, Anne had to admit that she was feeling torn. On the one hand, she was excited to go to the hockey game, but she couldn’t seem to shake the unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought of the party afterward. Even before she had moved to Avonlea, Anne wasn’t much of a partier, preferring a night in with a cuppa and a good novel. The only reason she even considered attending the party was because Gilbert had invited her, and for some reason, she was unable to say no to him.

If Diana had noticed that Anne was quieter than usual, she certainly didn’t say anything. When they arrived at Green Gables, they said a brief hello to Anne’s aunt and uncle before swapping her school things for an overnight bag. Although her aunt hadn’t been overly strict, Anne thought that asking to stay out until all hours of the night might be pressing her luck, so the two girls had arranged for her to stay at Diana’s for the night. Mr. and Mrs. Barry were pretty lenient as long as Diana managed to stay out of trouble and keep her grades up.

The girls spent much of the afternoon giggling and gossiping in Diana’s bedroom. At some point, Ruby had arrived so that they could get ready together. Although she wouldn’t be spending the night, the blonde girl had arrived equipped with a bag full of makeup and outfits, seemingly unable to decide which one would impress Gilbert the most. “I don’t know why you brought all this with you,” Diana told her, shaking her head and chuckling as Ruby explored the contents of her closet. “We both know that you always end up borrowing something of mine.”

“I really can’t decide though. I know pink’s my colour, but what if he’s more attracted to girls in green? Or orange? I don’t think I even own anything orange,” Ruby wailed.

“If those are his colours of choice, you really needn’t worry about me,” Anne teased. “Either one would clash dreadfully with my hair.”

Ruby looked her up and down. Anne was wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a navy blue jumper since she assumed the rink would be cold. “Is that what you’re wearing tonight, Anne?” she asked innocently.

“Aye. D’you reckon it’ll be warm enough?”

Ruby’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Oh no, Anne, you can’t possibly wear that! Not to a party at Charlie Sloane’s house!” She sounded horrified. Suddenly, it was as if a switch flipped in her brain and her whole body lit up with excitement. “Hold up! I have just the thing for you.”

Ruby stepped away from Diana’s closet and started digging through her bag while Diana watched with amusement and Anne looked concerned. “I know it’s in here somewhere,” Ruby muttered, pulling what seemed like dozens of items of clothing from her small duffle. “Here it is!” She flung an article at Anne, hitting the girl in the face with it as she moved back toward Diana’s closet, where she pulled a hanger and brought it over to where Anne was seated on the bed. “This is perfect!”

Anne inspected the two items together. She had been handed a black denim miniskirt with dungaree-style suspenders and a long-sleeved lacy top in a pale yellow. “I dunno, Rubes, don’t you think I’ll be cold?”

“Oh don’t worry about that! I always bring a blanket. Now put it on so we can do your makeup!”

Anne shrugged before quickly changing her clothes. The shirt was much more form-fitting than it had looked on the hanger, but both Diana and Ruby insisted that it simply showed off her figure. The skirt was a perfect fit and Ruby, elated with her ability to dress Anne, insisted on also doing the girl’s makeup, her own indecision on what to wear long forgotten.

In no time, the three girls were on their way to the arena, where they would meet up with Josie. Jane and Tilly had promised to meet up with them when they got to Charlie’s, but the former claimed that she hated watching sports and the latter was worried that her two boys would find out about each other.

They arrived just in time to catch the end of warmups, choosing to sit behind the home bench, but separate from the student section which, Diana claimed, could be a lot of fun but would be too loud for any of them to explain the rules to Anne. She watched in amazement as the boys skated their final warm-up laps. She had always wanted to try ice skating, but the opportunity had never come up. As she observed the activity taking place on the ice, Anne found herself studying each player wearing a royal blue jersey, wondering which one was Gilbert.

Almost as if the boy could read her mind, he spotted her from the ice and gave a subtle wave. Anne smiled and returned the gesture—to which Gilbert grinned before gathering his team around the net—wondering how she hadn’t identified him immediately; the “C” emblazoned on his chest a dead giveaway. Suddenly, she felt a tight grip on her arm as Ruby shrieked in her ear. “Did you see that? Gilbert Blythe just waved at me!”

Anne and Diana shared a knowing look and eye roll that Ruby, still in shock, thankfully missed. “That’s nice,” Diana said kindly, having watched the exchange between the hockey captain and Anne.

Anne was debating whether or not to correct Ruby when the buzzer rang, signalling the start of the game. Anne stood with the rest of the spectators through the playing of the national anthem—which she swore she’d learn the words to before the next game after noticing that she was the only person not singing—before settling in to watch the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot more to the Troubles than hostilities between Catholics and Protestants; it was largely a political conflict and one that I found a bit tricky to explain in dialogue. I am happy to provide links for anyone who wants to know more about it. FULL DISCLAIMER HERE: national identity in Northern Ireland varies from person to person and each person's identity is totally valid. Some people consider themselves Irish, some British, and some both Irish and British; some may even identify as neither. Anne identifying exclusively as Irish is not reflective of all people of her background.
> 
> I had never considered that Gilbert might play hockey until the first episode of AWAE that had the mi'kmaq people in it. Ice hockey isn't particularly big in Belfast with only one professional team in all of Ireland/NI based there, so I thought that making him into a hockey player in this verse would provide another opportunity for Anne to immerse herself in her new home's culture. Beginning with this chapter, she's slowly starting to realise that while many may judge her because she isn't from the island, her friends will accept her and that she shouldn't have to shy away from being proud of her identity.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I plan to have the next chapter out soon!


	5. Chapter 4

The atmosphere in the rink was unlike anything Anne had ever experienced. Every time one of the Avonlea players checked their opponent into the wall, the entire student section would jump up and cheer. It reminded Anne of the large crowds she’d seen in the stands whenever Mrs. Brady was watching the Six Nations rugby on the telly; certainly not something she would have expected to be part of any high school experience. Once she’d spotted Gilbert during warmups, she had no problem picking him out of the crowd. Despite all the hockey equipment that he was wearing, she didn’t need to see the number 9 and “BLYTHE” emblazoned on the back of his jersey because, despite being on the ice with a group of guys playing in front of a relatively large crowd, he carried himself the same way as whenever he and Anne were studying. Anne found it really endearing to watch the way Gilbert went up and down the bench between shifts, tapping his teammates on the shoulder in encouragement. And when he was on the ice, he was quite skilful and fun to watch. Anne was content to watch him and did so without realising that she had started zoning out.

“Anne! Anne, what do you think of it?” asked Diana, calling Anne’s name a few times when she didn’t respond.

Diana’s voice next to her pulled her back to reality. “It’s incredible! How do they skate so fast? I’ve never see—” her voice trailed off as arena went dead silent. Anne turned her head from Diana to face the ice and realised why everyone had gone quiet. Gilbert had stolen the puck and was racing down the ice as two players from the other team tried to chase him. Fortunately, he was a few steps quicker. The only think that stood in his way was the goaltender. The bleachers erupted into cheers as Gilbert made some sort of fancy move—Anne couldn’t follow that bit—and tucked the puck just over the goalie’s leg, sending it sailing to the back of the net. Anne couldn’t quite place why a strong sense of pride washed over her, but she grinned and cheered with the rest of the Avonlea students as Gilbert celebrated the goal with his teammates.

Despite never having taken much of an interest in sports, Anne was captivated throughout the entire game. Not that she would ever admit that her interest was largely due to a certain captain, but Anne thought that the game was most fun to watch whenever Gilbert was on the ice. The final buzzer saw Avonlea walk away with a 3-1 win. The other school had scored early into the second period, but two quick goals in the third—by Gilbert, no less—saw Avonlea begin their season undefeated. Anne grinned and cheered with pride after each of Gilbert’s goals. After celebrating the third one, he had looked into the stands and winked at her, to which she blushed profusely. Ruby, of course, squealed loudly, thinking that Gilbert had been looking at her, while Diana gave Anne one of her many knowing looks.

Anne had been enjoying the game so much that she couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed when it was over, and the herd of students were filtering out into the slightly warmer night air. Whether her friends joined her or not, she could see many Friday nights at the arena in her future.

As the girls walked through the town, following a few groups of people Anne recognised from school, Anne felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as her nerves began to build. Two months into the school year and students were still staring at her and whispering about “the outsider” at school. Her friends had been beyond kind to her, especially considering the general consensus was that only people born on PEI should live there. However their kindness did not necessarily extend to their peers.

After a quick stop at Ruby’s—which was conveniently on their way—to drop off her blankets, the girls headed to the party. Anne could practically feel the music blaring from inside the house as soon as she set foot on the property. The house was packed with bodies and some popular rock song that Anne couldn’t remember the name of was coming from a room down the front hall. No one seemed to be acknowledging her presence, for which Anne was relieved as she followed Ruby and Diana toward what appeared to be the kitchen.

“Drinks are usually in here,” Diana shouted over the noise. Anne could barely hear her because of the buzzing of conversations on top of the music that seemed to grow louder.

The girls walked into a brightly lit room where, sure enough, several bottles of vodka, rum, and sodas were assembled on a table. Anne fixed herself a vodka lemonade—something she had grown accustom to whenever her friends or one of the boys from the school down the street had an empty—and waited for her friends to do the same.

Once the three girls were set with drinks, they made their way toward the music, where they were able to find Tilly and Jane—who were both clearly a few drinks ahead of them—dancing to a fast pop track. It wasn’t really Anne’s taste, but at Diana’s insistence, she danced alongside her friends. As they danced together in a group, Anne could sense people staring, but they didn’t pay her any mind otherwise, for which she was grateful. In no time, she was as lost in the music as her friends and having an absolute blast.

* * *

Anne wasn’t sure how much time had passed since they all started dancing, but she had just finished her second drink and could feel a buzz coursing through her veins; it was electrifying and dizzying at the same time, but Anne had never felt happier since her arrival in Avonlea.

As the song they were dancing to quieted down at the end, Anne shouted to her friends, “I’m off to get another one.” Her voice blended well with the noise though, and only Diana seemed to understand, giving Anne a knowing thumbs-up.

By now, the unease that she had felt at going to a party full of people who seemed to resent her very presence had fully dissipated. She was enjoying dancing with her friends, but couldn’t help but wonder where Gilbert was. He had been the one to invite her to the party after all, so naturally it would make sense for him to be there.

Anne was just finishing pouring herself another vodka Sprite when she heard a familiar voice behind her shout, “Carrots! You came!” Under any other circumstances, she would have been furious; if it had been anyone else, they’d be wearing the contents of her cup. Gilbert Blythe, however, was another story for some reason. Perhaps it was because he’d spent the past several weeks proving himself, or perhaps it was the alcohol flowing through Anne’s system that mellowed her out.

“Don’t call me that!” she said indignantly. “I told you I’d be here.”

“But you didn’t. All you said was that you’d ask your friends.”

Anne shrugged. “Either way, I’m glad you’re here. You have to dance with me,” Gilbert told her, grabbing her hand to pull her back toward the living room. “I don’t think this is such a good idea,” she replied, noticing that people were definitely staring. Of course they were; Avonlea High’s golden boy appeared to be fixated on the resident outsider and, although said golden boy didn’t seem to mind, Anne was certainly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’ll be fun!” Gilbert was definitely a little drunk and Anne wasn’t exactly sober herself. Again, the girl shrugged. People had noticed her, so the proverbial damage had already been done. What further harm could she do?

As it turned out, Gilbert was a truly terrible dancer, something that Anne found simultaneously hilarious and endearing. Dancing with him gave her butterflies in her stomach, but she was having a great time teasing him for his two left feet. Though she couldn’t place why, Anne felt safe and warm in the boy’s presence and was thrilled that he publicly acknowledged her existence even though much of the town refused to. However, the idea of getting too close to him seemed terrifying. Thankfully, whoever had control of the stereo seemed to like alternative rock, so most of the songs were very upbeat and fast-paced. Until they weren’t.

Suddenly a slow song came on and Gilbert made to wrap his arms around Anne’s waist. However, the younger girl was startled by his action and stepped backwards, blushing. “I, erm, I need to get another drink,” she stammered before making a beeline to the other room.

Gilbert made to follow Anne, but was stopped when he overheard a few of his friends in the hallway. “Who’s the girl that’s been dancing with Gilbert all night?” Moody Spurgeon-MacPherson asked Charlie Sloane, Billy Andrews, and one of the rookies whose name Gilbert kept forgetting.

“I think her name’s Annie or something,” Charlie answered. “And I think she’s Irish. It’s a real shame she’s not from here or I might be hoping for matching marks. She definitely looks like my type.”

“Yeah, but she’s outsider trash,” Billy interjected. “She doesn’t belong here. Don’t know why Gilbert’s wasting his time on her when there are too many girls hoping to have the same mark as him.” The rest of the boys all nodded in agreement.

Gilbert stopped in his tracks. How dare Billy? He had no right saying those awful things about Anne. And the others; he thought his friends had better sense than to judge someone based on where they came from. He was absolutely livid, so livid in fact, that he couldn’t help what happened next as he turned, and his fist collided with Billy’s face.

“What the fuck, man?” Billy asked, muffled as blood dripped from his nose.

“Don’t even think about her like that again,” Gilbert answered through gritted teeth before turning and continuing toward the kitchen to find Anne. His knuckles were bruised, and his hand was throbbing, but he hardly noticed through his anger.

* * *

“…she’s outsider trash. She doesn't belong here,” Anne heard one of Gilbert’s friends say and her heart sank. Tears welled up in her eyes and she retreated to the kitchen, which had been empty when she was in it just moments before. Alcohol always made her a little more emotional than usual, but the boy’s words both embarrassed and saddened her immensely. How had she been so foolish to think that someone like Gilbert would ever want to be friends with someone like her? He was so well-liked and popular in Avonlea; the entire town loved him. Meanwhile, Anne had been on the island for nearly six months and she was still the subject of judgemental stares across town.

Thankfully, no one else had gone to the kitchen in her absence, so she was able to sink into one of the dining chairs and do her best to keep composed without an audience, or so she thought. It appeared that Gilbert was hot on her heels, as he appeared not two minutes later, his face red. _Of course he was embarrassed to be seen with me,_ thought Anne. _I bet he was out there laughing with those guys at how foolish I am to think he’d ever give me the time of day._

“Anne?” Gilbert called, looking around with worry. “There you are!”

“Save it.” Anne glared at him. “I heard everything and you’ve made enough of a fool out of me,” she told him angrily. Gilbert took on an expression that could only be described as a mixture of hurt and confusion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Anne. I thought we were having fun.”

“Well so did I, but it turns out this was all a little game, right? Your friends all wanted something to laugh about, so you decided to mess with the foreign girl’s mind, didn’t you?” She didn’t wait to hear Gilbert’s answer before storming past him, tears running down her cheeks. She needed to find Diana and get out of there as soon as possible.

If people weren’t staring at her before, they certainly were now. Anne’s face reddened, but the tears didn’t stop as she felt the gazes of her classmates and heard the changing tone of conversations as she frantically searched each room for her best friend.

Just as Anne was about to give up, assuming that Diana had forgotten about her and left, she found the girls right where she’d left them earlier in the night.

Diana’s face took on a look of concern as soon as she saw Anne and she immediately stepped through their little circle of friends toward her. “Anne, what’s wrong?”

Anne shook her head, knowing that if she would only cry harder if she started explaining everything and she had already suffered enough embarrassment for one night. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now, but I want to leave. Is that alright?”

“Absolutely,” Diana answered without hesitation. “Let me tell the other girls, and we can go.” True to her word, Diana told their friends—who hadn’t noticed Anne amongst the crowd—that she was getting a headache, so they would be going home. After a quick round of goodbyes, she returned to where Anne was standing and linked their arms together before walking to the front door.

The walk back to the Barry residence was silent, for which Anne was grateful. She truly didn’t deserve a friend so good as Diana. The girl had left a party—which she seemed to be enjoying—without giving it a second thought and wasn’t prying Anne for answers before she was ready.

Anne did her best to maintain some semblance of composure for the duration of the walk, but she couldn’t stop the tears rolling down her cheeks or the trembling caused by the cold night air and her quiet sobs. Exacerbated by the alcohol in her system, Anne was showing far more emotion than she typically would when upset but was surprisingly much quieter than she would have been in a sober state. Every time she started to calm down, Billy Andrews’ words would replay in her head and she would be reminded of the embarrassment they had caused. She couldn’t help feeling foolish, having thought that someone with Gilbert’s social standing would ever be interested in spending time with her—especially given the island’s culture and opinions on “outsiders.” She must have been some sort of joke to him and his friend group, and for some reason it hurt far more than calling her Carrots in front of their entire French class ever had.

Diana couldn’t have played the part of her best friend any better if she had tried. Although she was visibly concerned for her friend, she didn’t press Anne for any information on their walk back to her house, trusting that Anne would tell her what happened when she was ready. Thankfully, she didn’t live too far away from the Charlie, but only the porch and front hall lights appeared to be on when they reached the front of her yard.

“We have to be quiet,” Diana told Anne, knowing that her parents wouldn’t pay them much mind as long as neither girl was belligerently drunk, but they would be none too pleased if they were woken up after midnight. Anne merely nodded her understanding, tears still streaking down her cheeks. Diana led her through the quiet house and into her bedroom.

Turning to look at Anne, she said, “Let’s get changed and then I’d like you to tell me what happened, okay?” Again, Anne nodded in assent. She calmed down a bit as they went through their nighttime routines. Anne was beginning to sober up and get a rein on her emotions, but she didn’t feel any less disheartened as the evening’s events played on repeat in her mind.

Finally, once she couldn’t prolong her bedtime routine, Anne joined Diana on the opposite side of her king-sized bed. Staring up at the ceiling, she said, “I’m the bloody laughing stock of Avonlea,” her voice sounding much smaller than Diana was used to.

“I don’t know what you mean,” her dear friend replied, concerned. Anne did her best to tell the story—how Gilbert had insisted that they dance together, how she had heard his friends talking about her and calling her trash; how she realised that she was an absolute joke to Gilbert and that he was just spending time with her as something to laugh about with his mates.

To say Diana was fuming with anger would be an understatement. No one had the right to make her best friend—someone who had overcome so many difficult obstacles and still turned out so vibrant and loving and kind—feel so small and worthless. If she could march right back to the party and knock some sense into those boys, she wasn’t sure she would be capable of anything short of murder. Instead, she did the next best thing and wrapped her arms around Anne, smoothing her hair over as the redhead cried into her shoulder, whispering kind words into the girl’s ears.

After a while she could feel Anne’s breathing steady beside her and was hopeful that she had managed to fall asleep. Diana herself was very exhausted and could only think of one thing as she, too, drifted off to sleep; if she got her way, Gilbert Blythe would wish he had never been born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the delay in getting this out. It's been a busy week and I've not had much time for writing. I also apologise for the brevity of this chapter. The way I've got the plot mapped out, this chapter worked out to be a bit shorter than usual but I feel that it reached a solid stopping point. I'll try to have the next chapter up soon!


	6. Chapter 5

“I think her name’s Annie or something,” Charlie answered. “I think she’s Irish. It’s a real shame she’s not from here or I might be hoping for matching marks. She definitely looks like my type.”

“Yeah, but she’s outsider trash,” Billy interjected. “She doesn’t belong here. Don’t know why Gilbert’s wasting his time on her when there are too many girls hoping to have the same mark as him.”

Gilbert was seething. Charlie’s comments filled him with jealous rage, but Billy’s disparaging remarks against Anne absolutely infuriated him. He was unsure whether it was merely his anger or a result of the alcohol floating through his bloodstream, but his fist made forceful impact with Billy’s nose. The pain wouldn’t register until much later, but it was clear that he had done some damage as Billy’s nose had made a distinct _crack!_ as soon as Gilbert’s knuckles collided with it.

“What the fuck, man?” Billy asked, muffled as blood dripped from his nose.

Gilbert gritted his teeth, no less angry than he had been before taking matters into his own hands physically. “Don’t even think about her like that again.” He stepped away, trying to calm down. _Anne, I need to find Anne,_ he thought, heading toward the kitchen. She had told him she needed another drink, after all. With any luck, she hadn’t been anywhere within earshot of Billy and the guys that Gilbert was becoming ashamed to call his friends. He entered the kitchen frantically and uncoordinated, spotting Anne seated in one of the dining chairs almost instantly.

“Anne?” Gilbert called, looking around with worry. “There you are!” Relief washed over him. If Anne had been sitting there since she had run off, there was no way that she could have possibly overheard the rubbish spewing from Billy’s mouth.

“Save it.” Anne glared at him. “I heard everything, and you’ve made enough of a fool out of me,” she told him angrily.

Gilbert was confused. He had been nothing short of kind to the girl, nor did he bear any ill will towards her. In fact, he probably would have only put in a short appearance and left after twenty minutes or so if Anne hadn’t gone to the party at all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Anne. I thought we were having fun.”

“Well so did I, but it turns out this was all a little game, right? Your friends all wanted something to laugh about, so you decided to mess with the foreign girl’s mind, didn’t you?”

Before Gilbert could get a word in edgewise and defend himself, Anne was shoving past him. The only word his alcohol addled brain could think of to describe the situation was devastating; Anne was upset and thought that he was to blame for it. This time, it was his turn to sink into one of the dining chairs, which was how his assistant captain, Fred Wright, found him.

Gilbert explained the entire situation to Fred after his teammate questioned why he wasn’t enjoying the party with the rest of the team. Although Fred couldn’t comprehend why Gilbert was so torn up over a girl who didn’t belong to the island, he let the boy vent his frustrations and insisted they deal with his problems by sharing a handle of tequila that Fred’s older brother had bought for him. From that point onward, Gilbert’s evening was a blur.

* * *

Gilbert awoke to light flooding through his windows and instantly regretted opening his eyes. His head was pounding, and his mouth felt dry as if it were full of sawdust. He was still wearing his clothes from last night, though his socks had been tossed somewhere. This was not his first hangover by any means, but it was easily the worst. _Why did I ever think drinking so much would be a good idea?_ he asked himself before his memory of the previous night’s events came flooding back.

He had been so elated to see Anne at the party. Ever since she had knocked him round the head with her notebook, the redhead had never been too far from his thoughts. Her presence was electrifying, and he often caught himself staring at Anne in admiration whenever she was particularly focused on reading and in class—definitely never at times when she would notice. Dancing with her last night had been more than he could have hoped for, despite his disappointment when she had run off as soon as a slow song came on. What poor timing that had been; if she hadn’t run off, neither of them would have heard Billy Andrews’ cruel comments. Although Gilbert did not share that boy or his teammates’ sentiments on the matter of belonging to the island, he had been caught in the crossfire again. Anne had overheard—likely just a fraction of—the conversation and she certainly had not been around when he broke Billy’s nose. Speaking of that punch, his hand was throbbing, and his knuckles were varying shades of reds and purples. Hockey practise would be absolutely brutal until the bruising healed up, but he didn’t regret his actions one bit. His only regret was that Anne—who had quite the knack for overhearing the wrong things—had been hurt. Worst of all was that she seemed to think he was no different than the others.

The fact that Anne kept assuming the worst of him infuriated Gilbert to no end, but he was far more level-headed that she had proven to be. Rather than seeking her out to yell, he was therefore even more determined than ever to prove Anne wrong. Naturally, he thought, that meant he would need to apologise to Anne, _again_. First however, he could do with some Advil, a few more hours of sleep, and a shower.

When Gilbert awoke the second time, it was late afternoon. His stomach was still a bit queasy, but he was feeling significantly better. His headache had disappeared, and the light was no longer painful. All in all, his lingering ailments could be easily fixed with a good lunch. His emotional ailments, however, would require a bit of thought before he attempted to restore his reputation with Anne.

* * *

Anne hadn’t slept well at all, having spent most of the night tossing and turning—and feeling terrible about it since Diana was likely suffering as a result—as the evening’s events replayed in her mind over and over. She had enjoyed dancing with Gilbert more than she could describe and the words spoken by his friends had devastated her. However, as the redhead sobered up, she had questioned whether or not she had been too quick to jump to conclusions. Sure, most of the guys saying cruel things about her last night had been part of his immediate friend group, but Gilbert himself had never given Anne any reason to doubt his sincerity. Come to think of it, she had not once seen Gilbert so much as exchange pleasantries with Jane’s obnoxious older brother. Speaking of Jane, to blame Gilbert for Billy’s comments but carry no ill will toward Jane for having such a horrid brother was hypocritical. Despite Jane’s relation to Billy Andrews, the girl had never given Anne the slightest indication that she might agree with her brother, so why was she so quick to point her finger at Gilbert?

A deep blush of embarrassment crept down Anne’s body as she reached the conclusion that she had severely overreacted and taken out her hurt feelings on the one boy who had thus far shown her more unconditional kindness—Matthew Cuthbert and Diana Barry excluded—than anyone else since her arrival in Avonlea. She could apologise as much as she wanted, but nothing said that Gilbert would want to acknowledge, let alone forgive her after she had been so horrible to him. Nonetheless, Anne knew that she owed the boy an apology and began devising a plan to head back to Green Gables to drop her things, so that she could go over to the Blythes’ as quickly as possible.

Careful not to wake Diana, Anne quietly gathered her things and tiptoed out of the room. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she found that the rest of the Barrys were enjoying breakfast. After turning down their offer to join them and thanking them for having her, Anne was on her way. If it weren’t for the awkward shape of her overnight bag and pillow, Anne was sure that she would have run, but instead she settled for a brisk pace.

When Anne arrived at Green Gables, she was greeted by a note from Marilla saying that she and Matthew had gone into Charlottetown to run errands and would not likely be back until mid-afternoon and asking Anne to please return the various books she’d left scattered about the house back onto the bookshelf in her bedroom. Although the chore would prevent her from immediately rushing over to apologise to Gilbert, Anne figured that it would at least give her a bit more time to figure out what she was going to say to the boy.

By the time she finished returning her collection of novels to her bookshelf—and reorganising the thing, of course—her stomach was growling, so she decided to make a wee sandwich. Subconsciously, she was delaying the inevitable. If Anne knew one thing for certain about herself, it was that she was stubborn to a fault; apologising even though she knew that she was in the wrong would prove to be a challenge.

As she walked toward the orchard, Anne kept rehearsing her apology in her mind. _Gil, I hope you aren’t too cross with me—_ no, he had every right to be. Maybe, _I’m really sorry I assumed you were pretending to be nice to me when I overheard your mates. I don’t get why you’re friends with a bunch of pillocks—_ nah, insulting his choice in friends would probably make him even angrier. Perhaps, _I’m sorry I yelled at you last night. When I heard your friends talking about me, I jumped to conclusions and really shouldn’t have—_ yeah, that would wor—Anne was shaken from her thoughts when she collided with something solid; or rather, _someone_. Her first thought as she hit the ground with a thud was that she had walked into one of the many trees along her path. But surely the branches would have fended her off.

“Are you alright, Anne?” Gilbert asked sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to run into you; I really should have been paying better attention.”

Anne blushed realising that she had yet another thing to apologise to Gilbert for. “I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. I get lost in my own head sometimes, you know?”

Gilbert chuckled, knowing all about Anne’s tendencies to daydream. “Anyways, what brings you out this way? I figured you would want nothing to do with me after last night.”

Anne grimaced, her cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red. “I’m really sorry about that, Gilbert. I know it’s no excuse, but I was a bit drunk and when I overheard your mates saying that you were wasting your time with me and calling me awful names, I may have jumped to conclusions and assumed that our friendship was just a big joke to all of you and, well, I really shouldn’t have,” she blurted out awkwardly.

Gilbert sighed. He really didn’t know what to think. Here, he had been on his way to Green Gables, prepared to apologise for upsetting her even though he knew that he had done nothing wrong. However, given the turn of events, he supposed that the best thing he could do was just be honest with her. “I’m not going to say that the way you treated me was okay, because it really wasn’t.” Anne frowned. “However,” Gilbert added, “I’m willing to forget it and move on if you promise to stop assuming the worst of me. I think, well I hope anyways, that I’ve proven that I don’t care whether you’re from the island or the moon. Just because one of my teammates says something doesn’t mean I automatically agree with them, you know?”

Anne nodded, blinking back tears. She felt awful about how awful she had treated Gilbert, but he was being so understanding _again_. “I’m so very sorry, Gilbert. I was horrible to you and you didn’t deserve it at all. If you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I’d be so very grateful.”

Gilbert smirked. Anne’s flare for the dramatic was something that he had come to appreciate, and he had already made up his mind to forgive her before she had come to apologise, having felt an inexplicable draw toward her since the day she hit him over the head with that notebook. He was about to answer her, but before he could get his words out, Anne must have noticed his injury from the previous evening, because her eyes widened. “Oh, Gilbert! Whatever did you do to your hand?”

Now it was Gilbert’s turn to blush. “It’s nothing,” he downplayed. “But, for the record, I can’t stand Billy Andrews and I don’t like when he badmouths my friends.” He winked at her, choosing to neither confirm nor deny that he had punched the cad. Anne was smart enough that she could reach the conclusion on her own.

“You didn’t…” she gaped at him.

Gilbert shrugged. “I was angry and someone had to put him in his place,” he justified. “And it looks worse than it is.”

Anne raised a brow, not believing him at all. “Really? Then it won’t hurt if I take a look at it, right?” She reached out to examine the dark red and purple bruising that had formed across his knuckles. Almost as soon as she made contact, Gilbert winced in pain. “That’s what I thought,” she told him indignantly as he tried to shrug off the pain. “I’m pretty sure Aunt Marilla keeps some bruise salve at the house. Uncle Matthew’s constantly coming in from the barn with something or other banged up. Let’s go.” She motioned for Gilbert to come with her.

“I’m fine, Anne, really. A bit of ice and ibuprofen will take care of it.”

“If you’re really alright, squeeze my hand.” She held out her fingers to him. Knowing better than to argue with the headstrong girl, Gilbert rolled his eyes and reached for her. As soon as he began to close his fingers around hers, he hissed in pain. “That’s what I thought,” she told him righteously. “If you can’t even squeeze my hand gently, how are you going to explain to your coach and teammates why you can’t hold your stick at practise on Monday, Captain?”

Gilbert looked at the ground, suddenly very interested in the grass beneath their feet. “I’m hoping that regular ice and pain killers will have me in good enough shape by then.”

Anne rolled her eyes. Why did boys always insist on being so tough to the point of stupidity? “Nonsense,” she waved offhandedly. “With that logic, you’ll be lucky if it starts healing by the end of the week. You’re coming with me,” she insisted.

“Alright,” Gilbert agreed, knowing it was no use arguing with Anne once she’d made up her mind. The girl was too stubborn for her own good sometimes.

The two walked in relative silence at first, but Anne being the chatterbox that she was, couldn’t stay quiet for too long. “That was quite the game last night! I’d never seen anything like it before!”

Gilbert grinned, Anne’s genuine excitement not lost on him. “I knew you’d like it! We’ll make a real Canadian out of you yet!”

Anne laughed. “I don’t know about that. I’m about as Irish as they come and I’m in no rush to change that, but I did enjoy the game—once I got the hang of the rules anyhow.”

“Why not be both?” he asked curiously. “I’m glad we managed to pull out the win then. It was a good game to go to for your first.”

Anne shrugged. “Maybe someday I’ll identify with Canada more, but people have been dying to defend our Irish identity in Belfast for my entire life. It would be an insult to the innocent casualties like my parents to so willingly lose that identity. Despite the fighting, I’m proud of where I come from and will always cling to that identity,” she said seriously. “I couldn’t believe how fast you all are! And you’ve really downplayed how good _you_ are, Mr. Captain.”

Gilbert nodded. He couldn’t understand what it was like to live through the Troubles, but her reasoning was only logical. “Understandably,” he agreed. “I didn’t mean to give up your Irishness entirely, just that maybe you could also consider yourself a bit Canadian too someday. Contrary to what many of our peers and their parents think, no one should be judged by where they come from.” Anne looked at him thoughtfully, her expression softening a tad. The only people who had seemed to care less about Anne being a foreigner to both the country and the island were her relatives at Green Gables and Diana. She would have to bear that in mind going forward, lest she overreact toward something the boy said or did. Gilbert shook his head. “I’m nothing special, really. The team played well around me.”

“Thank you,” said Anne, putting the subject to rest. She would never forsake her Irish identity, perhaps Gilbert was right—maybe someday. Anne rolled her eyes again, but smirked, as Gilbert continued to underexaggerate his athleticisms. “Yeah, okay, Mr. I scored all three goals to win the match.” She nudged his shoulder playfully.

“Like I said, the boys played well around me. I had a few really good shifts is all.” Anne just stared at him in disbelief. Even she—who had never seen a game before could tell that he was the best player on the team even if her friends hadn’t already told her. However, she knew that it was no use arguing with him. Gilbert was too damn humble more often than not, she had learned through their study sessions.

“Sure,” she replied coolly, evident that she didn’t believe him. Gilbert just fell silent and slipped his hands into his jacket pockets, suddenly remembering that he had something for Anne when his bruised knuckles brushed up against a hard, solid object. He stopped dead in his tracks and encouraged Anne to do the same with an, “Oh, I almost forgot.” As he slipped his hand out of his pocket, Anne noticed that he held a black rubber disk. The edge appeared to be lined with some sort of white tape with something written on it.

“At the end of every game, Coach awards someone with the game puck. I figured that I’ve gotten plenty of those over the years, but you might like something to remember your first hockey game.” He handed the object to Anne who, for once in her life, was speechless. His gesture was so kind and heart-warming. And he’d had the puck with him, prepared to give it to her even after she had been so horrible. She examined the puck closely, reading the words written across the tape: _Hat-Trick and GWG 10/20/1995._

“I-I don’t know what to say,” Anne told him in awe of his thoughtfulness. “Erm, what is a hat-trick?”

Gilbert laughed. Leave it to that girl to go from emotional to comical in mere seconds. “A hat-trick is when someone scores three goals in a game. GWG means that I scored the game-winning goal. I should’ve taken the tape off thought,” he blushed hoping that Anne didn’t think he was trying to show off.

“No, it belongs there. How else am I ever going to remember what happened?” She grinned at him. They were nearly to Green Gables at that point and continued the short walk in silence. Anne’s thoughts were running a mile a minute as she analysed the gift. Surely Gilbert was just being nice. The idea that there might be more to his thoughtfulness created butterflies in her stomach that were only mitigated by the logical side of her brain reminding her that he had a soulmate out there and was clearly just being nice even though she hadn’t deserved his kindness after the way she had acted.

In no time, they had reached the familiar porch and she was guiding him inside to sort out his hand, which she insisted on wrapping to secure the bruise salve. By that point, Gilbert’s last round of pain meds had started to wear off, so, after making plans to study later in the week, Anne sent him off with the container of salve.

As soon as Gilbert’s silhouette had disappeared in the distance, Anne grabbed the phone and made herself comfortable on the couch. “Diana, I have so much to tell you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the delay in updating. I'm afraid I'll only be posting around once per week for the time being. I've recently accepted a new job and am busier than ever tying up loose ends and preparing to move.
> 
> Some of you have requested Gilbert's POV and although I didn't previously plan on including it in this story, inspiration struck and I went for it. As always, thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 6

Fall quickly turned to Winter and before Anne knew it, she was awaking to her first big snowfall. Sure, she had seen snow before; Ireland wasn’t exactly a tropical island, but the only snow she had experienced firsthand was a light dusting on the ground that never stuck around for long. Winter to Anne meant a constant damp drizzle and harsh winds that were bone-chilling. Never before had she experienced a proper Canadian snowfall and to say she was excited when she awoke to find a fresh layer of white powder on her windowsill. Monday morning dawned brigh and it was as if Green Gables had transformed overnight. The branches of the tree outside her window glistened as the sunlight reflected off the snow and the ground surrounding it looked magical and inviting—Anne couldn’t wait to experience it for herself.

She wasted no time getting dressed, instead slipping on her dressing gown as she sprinted down the stairs.

“What’s going on, child?” Marilla asked, poking her head out from the kitchen.

“It snowed!” Anne exclaimed, rushing to put her boots on by the front door. Marilla walked down the hall toward her as if she was about to try and stop her free-spirited niece.

“Wait a minute, Anne, it’s too cold out for you to go outside dressed like that,” she scolded, but it was no use. The door was already slamming closed behind Anne.

It was much colder than Anne had expected, but she was too excited to notice. The snow, which looked soft and inviting, beckoned to her like the pages of her favourite novels. Wanting to experience the softness for herself, Anne launched herself into the knee-deep flurries. What she wasn’t prepared for was the bitter cold which she had submerged herself into.

“Anne Shirley, get back inside this instant!” Marilla Cuthbert was standing on the porch, towel in hand. “My goodness, child, you’re going to catch your death if you insist on behaving like this.” She shook her head as Anne stood up and trudged up the porch steps.

“But it looked so magical! And I’d never seen anything like it. I wasn’t expecting it to be so cold, Aunt Marilla,” Anne justified herself to the woman, graciously taking the towel to help dry off the snow that had started melting into her hair and clothes. As they walked back into the house, Anne was overwhelmed by the welcoming heat that the furnace gave off.

“Nonsense, you’ll have all Winter to frolic in the snow—properly dressed, mind you. We’re not even into December yet. It’s only going to get worse,” Marilla chided. “Now go upstairs and take a hot shower. I won’t have you falling ill because of your nonsense.”

Anne nodded and went upstairs to get ready for the day. She would have to rush if she wanted to walk with Diana.

When Anne came back downstairs, donning a thick wool sweater and her warmest jeans, Marilla was waiting with a thermos of tea and slices of toast for her. “You’ve no time for breakfast if you want to be on time,” she explained, handing the small meal over to Anne. With a stern look, she added, “We won’t be making a habit of this.” After thanking her aunt, Anne was off, this time dressed in the proper outerwear for the weather.

By the time she reached the spot in the road where their paths crossed, Diana was already waiting, rubbing her hands together through her gloves to try and keep them warm.

“Oh, Diana, I’m so sorry I’m late! But have you ever seen anything quite so magical?” Anne asked, still incredible enamoured with the snow.

Diana merely chuckled. Anne’s joy over the turn in weather was one she understood well, having spent many afternoons of her childhood begging her parents to let her go out and play in the snow. However, the older she got, the more of a nuisance snow became. Diana could appreciate its beauty through windowpanes, but the bone-chilling cold that she felt as she trudged through the damp mess to get to school each winter was something that she could do without. “This is just the beginning, Anne. Wait until we have a proper snowstorm. And by the Christmas holidays, I’m sure you’ll be begging for an early Spring!”

Anne just looked at Diana in shock. How could someone so elegant ignore the newfound beauty of fresh snowfall? “But Diana, imagine a white Christmas! I’ve only ever heard about them in books and films!”

“You mean this is the first major snow you’ve seen?” Diana asked, incredulous.

“I mean, we’ve gotten flurries back home before, but they usually just dust the ground and melt within hours.” Anne explained the sporadic monsoon season that appeared to strike the British Isles from November to February and how she had been so excited to wake to deep snow that she had launched herself, still in her pyjamas, into the fresh powder in her front yard. Diana simply shook her head, agreeing with Marilla that Anne would be lucky if she managed to evade cold or flu after that.

Sure enough, Anne started feeling a bit off toward the end of their first class. By the middle of French, she had a pounding headache and her throat was feeling a bit tickly. Ever the observant friend, Diana noticed that something was off and did her best to nudge Anne into paying attention whenever Mr. Phillips began to glance their way, but Anne could hardly focus as she began to feel progressively worse. When the class had finally ended, Diana insisted on dragging her friend to the school nurse—though it took little convincing—who took Anne’s temperature and insisted that she be sent home for the day due to a mild fever. “I’m fine,” Anne insisted. “If you could just give me something for my headache…” she trailed off losing thought. She was definitely feeling progressively worse, but didn’t want to fall behind in her classes. As it was, she and Gilbert were neck and neck for the top marks in each of their shared classes. Going home sick would be like forfeiting.

“Nonsense,” the nurse insisted. “Any sort of fever and you have to go home and stay home for at least twenty-four hours. School policy. Now do you want to call your guardian or shall I?” Anne looked between her and Diana with sad, defeated eyes. Marilla was likely going to blame her actions that morning—even though they were too recent—and Anne was in no mood for a lecture. “Could you please?”

Anne and Diana sat quietly while the nurse phoned Marilla, Anne’s head resting on her best friend’s shoulder. “Mr. Cuthbert will be here in about fifteen minutes if you’d like to go and collect your things, Anne,” the nurse interrupted their silence. Anne merely nodded and Diana thanked the woman quietly before ushering Anne into the hallway toward her locker.

“Don’t worry about falling behind; I can bring you your missed work,” Diana told her. “I can copy my notes for French and Geometry. Ruby’s your lab partner, right?” Anne nodded. “Is there anyone I can ask from your other classes?”

Anne’s throat was literally on fire and her head felt as if it were going to split in half. “Gilbert,” she answered, raspy and barely audible. Diana nodded, giving Anne a sympathetic look. It was so unlike the redhead to speak quietly. “Thanks, Di.”

Diana smiled softly at her friend. “No worries. Just do your best to feel better soon.”

Anne gave her an appreciative look. “You’re a real mate,” she told the dark-haired girl. “Now off you go to lunch. I already feel horrid, but I’ll feel even worse if you don’t get to eat on account of me.”

Diana chuckled. With a hug, the two were off in opposite directions.

* * *

Matthew had been the one to pick Anne up from school, for which she was grateful. She cared for both her aunt and uncle, but Matthew was cheery and sympathetic toward Anne’s plight, content to make the short drive home in silence while she rested her head against the window. Though a woman of few words, Marilla likely would have spent the short journey giving Anne a lecture about dressing warmly before going outside. When they arrived home, Matthew showed Anne to the medicine cabinet where the Cuthberts kept their cold and flu medications before telling her that he would be working in the barn if she needed anything else before Marilla was back from running errands. Anne thanked him politely before traipsing up to her bedroom where she changed into an old pair of joggers and a sweatshirt before climbing into bed.

It was early evening when Anne awoke, sweat-soaked and freezing despite the warm clothes and mountain of blankets on top of her. Her head felt worse—if that was even possible—and her throat was on fire. To make matters worse, her body had added congestion to the growing list of symptoms while she slept. To say she was absolutely miserable would be a severe understatement. Anne lay in bed for what felt like hours, trying to will herself to get up to change into a dry set of pyjamas at the very least, but despite her hours-long nap, her energy was completely drained. In reality, it was only about twenty minutes but she was as alert as she could be, given the circumstances, when Marilla entered her bedroom with a gentle knock at the door. She was carrying a mug in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“How are you feeling?” she asked her niece, concerned. Placing the glasses on Anne’s nightstand, she sat at the edge of the bed and placed a—freezing, in Anne’s opinion—hand against her forehead. If anything, her fever was a touch worse than when she had left school. Anne merely groaned, her throat sore enough that she didn’t want to talk if she didn’t have to. “Not well, then,” Marilla deduced. “If you could try sitting up, I brought up a mug of warm chicken broth and a glass of water. I just put the kettle on, so I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She patted her niece’s leg gently before standing back up as Anne croaked out, “Thank you,” before wincing in pain. Marilla frowned, mentally adding cold/flu medication and tissues to the list of things she needed to bring upstairs.

It took nearly every ounce of energy Anne had to sit up, but she was glad that she managed to when she finally took a few small sips of the broth. It had cooled just enough to soothe her throat but was still steaming enough to help reduce her congestion. Given that Anne had zero appetite, the fact that she managed to drain the mug and half her glass of water before Marilla returned was impressive.

When Marilla returned, tea in hand as promised, she was pleased to see that Anne was semi-upright, pillows propped up against her headboard. Marilla set everything down on Anne’s nightstand again and informed her that Diana had brought by some schoolwork which had been placed on her desk in case she was feeling up to studying tomorrow. Glancing at the desk beneath her window, Anne noticed that Diana must have gone into her locker to make sure she had the books she needed as her battered old copy of _The Great Gatsby_ sat atop a small stack of textbooks and papers. She nodded in acknowledgement and thanked Marilla yet again.

The tea soothed her throat marginally and provided an additional warmth which Anne was grateful for. As she sipped the warm liquid, Marilla sat at her bedside quietly, looking slightly worried whenever Anne let out a chesty cough. Anne was thankful for the silence—rather than a lecture—since she still had a headache, though it was slowly subsiding. She was deeply touched that her typically stern, emotionless aunt was acting so caring toward her. It reminded Anne of Mrs. Brady and how the woman would sit and read to her when she was out sick from school when she was small. Her heart ached at the loss of her former guardian, but was equally warmed by the presence of Marilla Cuthbert. Anne was much too old to request that the woman read to her, but she did ask Marilla to hand her the novel atop the pile of schoolwork before she left for the night.

After wishing her aunt goodnight, Anne made to open her book when a folded piece of notebook paper fell from its cover and landed on her lap. Setting the book aside, she unfolded the paper and recognised the handwriting almost instantly.

_Anne,_

_Diana informed me that the nurse sent you home during lunch. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. English wasn’t the same without you. We spent most of class discussing the importance of symbolism in Gatsby and, as usual, most of the class seemed to miss a few key points. I’m sure you definitely would have set them straight…I thought Miss Stacey was going to throw a fit when Gardner insisted that the green light meant that Daisy was giving Gatsby permission to pursue her and nothing more. I can only imagine your rebuttal—for Roy’s sake, it’s probably for the best that you weren’t here to crucify him._

_Anyways, I took two sets of notes so that you could have your own set and I’ll be sure to do the same in Euro tomorrow if you’re not back. Sorry if my handwriting’s a bit messy. I hope you’re starting to feel better already._

_-Gilbert_

Anne smiled. Though brief, Gilbert’s note was unexpected yet she wasn’t surprised. The boy was unlike any other she had met. He certainly understood her on a more intellectual level than most and while that meant that the two were often challenging each other, competing for the top mark in class, it also meant that Anne had someone to debate literature with. Despite each of her misgivings, Gilbert had continued to show her unwavering kindness.

Gilbert could have simply given Anne’s missed assignments to Diana and allowed her to copy his notes in the future if she needed, but he had been thoughtful enough to compose a second set on her behalf. She wasn’t sure if he had included the bit about Roy Gardner to make small talk, but it definitely elicited a response which, Anne decided, she would write tomorrow. For now, she would continue her reread of _The Great Gatsby_ until the words were blurred from exhaustion.

* * *

Gilbert’s initial note ignited a series of correspondence between the two with Diana unknowingly acting as their messenger. Anne’s fever was persistent, so for the remainder of the week, Diana would stop by on her way home from school to drop off the work that Anne missed and collect the previous day’s assignments and each day, Anne would find a response from Gilbert tucked away in her English or History notes.

_Gilbert,_

_Thank you so much for going out of your way to create a second set of notes for me. I hope it hasn’t been too time consuming or inconvenient; if it is, please do not continue. I can always copy them next time we meet to study. If I haven’t mentioned it already, Gatsby is one of my favourite books, so I’m positively gutted that I had to miss even a single class discussion about it. The symbolism is SO IMPORTANT and so straightforward that I can’t believe that even someone as dim as Roy managed to misconstrue the message so badly. The green light so obviously represents the American Dream and Gatsby’s love for Daisy. By Roy’s logic, green means go. Were traffic lights even invented by 1925? I ask because I genuinely do not know. Those sorts of things have never come up in any history lessons and now I’m curious._

_I apologise if my rambling is a bit annoying, but (in case you weren’t already aware) being confined to one’s bed is particularly boring, and I’ve already completed all of yesterday’s work…yes, even my geometry homework and you know how much I detest maths. Anyways, I hope you’re doing well and that practise hasn’t been too brutal after last week’s loss. You’re away at Mount Stewart on Friday night, right? If I don’t hear from you before then, best of luck…not that you need it, but your team might._

_Best,  
_ _Anne_

When Marilla brought in Wednesday’s coursework—she refused to let Diana up on the grounds that Anne needed her rest and might be contagious—Anne was worried at first that her reply had not reached Gilbert since nothing fell out of her History textbook. If he never received a response, Anne was sure that he would think her ungrateful, especially since she didn’t have the greatest track record when it came to communicating with him. Perhaps he had found her note, but didn’t find the need to reply. Though the thought crossed her mind, Anne was not one bit disappointed that Gilbert might not want to respond to her, nope. And if someone were to ask her, that is exactly what she would tell them. She would also refuse to admit that she was overcome with joy when she found his response folded in the pages of notes that he had scrawled out for her. Because she absolutely was not, well no more than if the note had been in Ruby, Jane, or any of the other girls’ handwriting. Nope.

_Anne,_

_It’s not too much trouble…another opportunity to work on my doctor’s scrawl (I’ve mentioned that I want to be a doctor, right?). Besides, if I’m going to earn the top mark, I want to do it fair and square. It wouldn’t be right for a virus to put you at a disadvantage. If it’s easier for you, send your notebooks with Diana and I’ll happily write the notes directly in them._

_You may have mentioned your appreciation of Gatsby a few times. Have you read 1984 or Lord of the Flies yet? I’m curious what your thoughts would be on those. Or, To Kill a Mockingbird? Those are just a few of my favourites. When I was young, my dad and I would read a chapter or two of the Three Musketeers before bed and I was so excited to read The Count of Monte Cristo in Grade 9 until I discovered that the school assigned us the abridged version, which does make sense given the length of Dumas’ works. I spent most of the following summer reading the full version under our tree whenever I wasn’t helping out with the orchard. Just a few suggestions of reading material if you’re looking for ways to pass the time until you’re well again. Let me know and I’d be happy to lend you any of those books. I’m unsure about the origins of traffic lights myself, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were a relatively new concept at the time, if they had been implemented at all. I won’t even bother to tell you what he had to say about Eckleburg’s eyes._

_I hardly consider anything you have to say as “rambling.” I just wish you could have been in class to argue those points yourself. School has been rather dull without your insights, but your body couldn’t have chosen a better time to declare war on you; Billy Andrews’ 18 th birthday was yesterday and he’s been absolutely insufferable ever since, shoving his wrist into the face of anyone who so much as acknowledges his presence. If I behave half as obnoxiously as he has when my turn comes around, you have my full permission to hit me over the head again…a textbook would even be justifiable in this case! _

_We are playing at Mount Stewart on Friday, so you won’t be missing out on anything…unless you were planning on wasting your Friday night on traveling to one of the worst rinks on PEI. Thank you, but I always need all the luck I can get. I’m nowhere near as good as you seem to think. Perhaps we can go to a professional game sometime soon, so I can prove to you how wrong you are about me. Please get well soon so that I don’t have to suffer another frustrating book discussion alone._

_Sincerely,  
_ _Gilbert_

Anne laughed when she read the part where Gilbert told her she could take a book to his head. She was glad, though, to be away from school if Billy was being more obnoxious than usual; if he was so obsessed over his new mark, there’s no way she would have avoided him bringing her permanently blank wrist to their peers’ attention in attempt to humiliate her. She was thrilled that Gilbert had been so forthcoming about his favourite books; it was yet another thing that they would certainly be discussing the next time they procrastinated their homework together. Anne wasted no time in penning a reply, eager to debate literature with anyone even if it was in such an indirect manner.

_Gilbert,_

_You haven’t mentioned anything about becoming a doctor, but I’m hardly surprised. If anyone I’ve met here is suited for that career path, it’s you. I’ve sent along my notebooks this time. The blue one is History and the purple is English. Thanks again._

_Lord of the Flies was heart-breaking. I won’t go into detail here, but prepare yourself for a rant about how cruelly Piggy was treated. Reading 1984 really put our freedom to think independently into perspective. Have you seen the film? It’s absolutely chilling. We were meant to read To Kill a Mockingbird this year, so I haven’t yet, but I would really like to. Do you prefer the thought-provoking words of Orwell or the extravagant adventures of Dumas? Personally, I’m more enthralled by tales of love and adventure. I’m currently working my way through the Lord of the Rings series and I don’t know why I waited so long…they’re incredible! Perhaps we could exchange books sometime, so that we have further material to argue about._

_I am starting to feel a fair bit better, though the first two days were brutal. I’d almost rather have had to tolerate Billy, almost being the operative word here. Who knows where my temper would get me if I had to endure that. Even at your worst, I’m sure you couldn’t hold a candle to Billy Andrews on his best day…he really is an insufferable prick._

_I’m not sure if you’re modest or blind, Blythe. I’ve never been skating before, but it looks difficult and you’re so fast. You wouldn’t score so many goals if you weren’t good. I’ll hold you to that, though. I’ve never been to a professional sporting event and watching hockey is the most Canadian thing you can do, or so I’ve heard. I make no promises, but appear to be on the mend, so I’ll hopefully be back tomorrow. I’ll definitely be back at school by Monday._

_Kind regards,  
_ _Anne_

* * *

By Friday morning, Anne was feeling much better. Her fever finally broke sometime in the night and her throat was no longer raw, but she was still sniffling and had a slight cough, though nowhere near as bad as it had been at the beginning of the week. Although she begged Marilla to let her go to school, the older woman insisted that Anne should have one last day to rest so that she didn’t relapse. Since Anne felt well enough to take her breakfast at the kitchen table, Marilla agreed that she could bundle up on the couch downstairs and might even be able to visit with Diana when the girl stopped by with her schoolwork, provided that Anne wasn’t in the midst of a nap—which the girl promised herself she absolutely would not be. Four days was far too long for someone so talkative to go without seeing any of her friends.

Anne spent the majority of the day finishing the second _Lord of the Rings_ book from the comfort of the Cuthberts’ living room sofa. Since she had already finished _The Great Gatsby_ several times over and would have to make up her science lab when she returned to school, Anne only had a few Geometry problems and a grammar assignment for French, which she managed to do in the span of an hour.

By the time Diana was knocking on the Cuthberts’ front door, Anne had prepared a fresh pot of tea and a plate of biscuits to share with her dearest friend, who was shocked when the redhead answered the door rather than the stern older woman that she had become accustomed to seeing each day.

“Anne!” Diana exclaimed, rushing to remove her snow-damp jacket and scarf so that she could hug the girl.

“Oh Diana, I’ve missed you,” Anne greeted the dark-haired beauty. “I was elated when Aunt Marilla permitted me to leave my room today. I’ve prepared tea if you’d like to stay a while.”

Diana nodded, smiling. Although they had known each other but a few short months, Anne had easily become her closest companion. While she had the other girls to eat lunch with, their shared classes were awfully lonely without Anne and she told the girl such.

As they sipped their tea, Diana informed Anne of everything she had missed out on that week. While Diana recounted Billy’s behaviour in wake of receiving his soul mark, Anne feigned surprise. For some reason that even she didn’t understand, she wanted to keep her correspondence with Gilbert private between the two of them. She trusted Diana implicitly, but reading Gilbert’s letter each afternoon invoked a set of emotions that Anne was refusing to acknowledge. If she mentioned any of the letters or their contents to Diana, the girl would certainly probe for more information about her feelings than Anne was willing to admit to even herself.

The two girls chatted far longer than either had intended and the sun was beginning to set by the time Diana bid Anne farewell, planning to call her the next morning to make plans. Nearly as soon as the door closed behind her best friend, Anne carried her collection of assignments up to her room, keen to find out what Gilbert had to say this time. His note was folded neatly into the pages of her History notebook, and Anne wasted no time unfolding the loose-leaf paper as soon as she discovered it.

_Anne,_

_I am hopeful that this is the last letter I’ll be writing you for a while…it’s not that I don’t enjoy corresponding with you, but since today is Friday and I am still trading your completed work and new assignments with Diana, well I’m hopeful that you’ll make good on your word and be back to full health by Monday._

_I have not seen the film adaptation of 1984, but wouldn’t be opposed to a movie night sometime. Dad recently bought the VHS of Jurassic Park. Perhaps you love adventure films as much as books? I can definitely lend you Mockingbird. Any chance I could read your copy of the Hobbit? The series has been on my reading list for a while, but I always get too busy once hockey season comes around._

_I thought Billy might tire of people rolling their eyes and trying to ignore his bragging over the mark on his wrist, but if anything he’s gotten worse. You just might have to put him in his place next week since nobody else has. If anyone can manage it, I’m sure it’ll be you. Personally, I feel sorry for whoever has his mark; it isn’t the most attractive mark I’ve seen by any means. It looks like splattered blood, if blood was jet black. Perhaps it’s vain of me (or at least overly sentimental), but when my mark appears next month, I hope whatever it is bears some sort of greater meaning. I can’t imagine what splattered blood would mean aside from the fact that Billy is a brute._

_Never? We’ll pick a time next week, but we are definitely going skating once you’re feeling up to it. My parents bought me my first pair as soon as my feet were big enough, so I don’t remember a time when I couldn’t skate. As I’ve already told you many times, I’m only as successful as the team around me. They’re the ones who set me up to score goals and they’re the ones who deserve all the credit. We’re definitely going to a professional game then. I know you’re as Irish as they come, but we can still make a Canadian of you. Anyways, lunch is nearly over and I have to make sure I don’t miss any information so you can keep up in class. I look forward to seeing you again soon._

_Sincerely,  
_ _Gilbert_

Anne couldn't wait for Monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I apologise for the delay. I'm going to continue to post as frequently as I can, but I'm a bit busier than normal these days. I hope this (slightly) longer than usual chapter makes up for the delay.
> 
> I have zero issues with Roy in canon besides the fact that he doesn't hold a candle to Gilbert, so I couldn't resist using him as a negative discussion point for the two. I'm sorry if I somehow spoiled any classic literature through Anne and Gilbert's letters. Personally, I've never read LOTR, but from what I do know about it, it sounds like the sort of series Anne would enjoy. I have read each of the other books mentioned and I chose those as discussion points because they are some of the most thought-provoking novels I've come across. I highly reccomend them if you're looking for some heavier quarantine reading materials.
> 
> Next chapter will focus more heavily on Anne and the girls as one of them receives her soul mark, but the chapter after that is where the central plot will really begin to take off.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Can't wait to hear what you think of this one!


	8. Chapter 7

By the time Monday rolled around, Anne had made a near full recovery. She still had a slight cough, but that was common with the flu and Marilla made no fuss about sending her back to school.

Anne thought about Gilbert’s letter several times throughout the weekend. She was eager to take him up on his invitation to go skating and see a hockey game but was not sure if he had just suggested those things to be nice or if he genuinely wanted to spend time together more than they already did. The idea of going somewhere just the two of them filled her stomach with butterflies in a way that dancing together at Charlie’s party had failed to do. Anne did her best to push those feelings away and successfully managed to distract herself by finishing her re-read of the Lord of the Rings series.

She also spent significant time with Diana since the two had been separated for nearly a week. Although Gilbert’s letter was constantly in the back of her mind, Anne never brought it up. As far as any of her friends knew, Diana had brought Anne class notes and returned finished work for her each day—nothing more. Anne wasn’t sure why she wanted to keep her correspondence a secret, but thankfully no one knew to ask her about it, so it would likely remain such.

On Sunday afternoon, Anne had met the other girls, minus Tilly, at Diana’s. Tilly’s sixteenth birthday was on Tuesday and, apparently it was island tradition for a girl’s friends to throw a party where she could show off her fresh soul mark. Anne thought the idea was archaic, but was delighted to be included nevertheless. At Tilly’s request, the six girls would be having a nice dinner in Charlottetown after the newspaper meeting with a party to follow that weekend. Apparently, she was hopeful that her mark would match with one of the two Pauls. Since she could never choose between them, Tilly was relying on fate to make the decision for her.

It was a recurring topic as the girls sat around Mrs. Barry’s large kitchen table. Anne and Diana were confident that neither of the Pauls would be her soulmate. Josie kept insisting that Tilly was going to be the first girl to ever have two soulmates and Jane couldn’t help herself giggling over it all. Ruby merely blushed and told them that she couldn’t wait for her own birthday when she would inevitably match with Gilbert.

Diana shot Anne a pointed look at that, which was missed by the others. Anne pretended to ignore it. If her best friend suspected anything, she certainly didn’t say but since there was nothing to suspect, Anne refused to lose sleep over it. Either way, they were both dreading the day Ruby woke up to discover a different mark from whatever Gilbert would get.

* * *

Gilbert was slightly disappointed when he failed to find a note from Anne tucked away in her loaned copy of _The Hobbit._ Sure, it made sense that she wouldn’t reply to his last letter since she could physically talk to him at school, but he had enjoyed their new routine of exchanging notes. Maybe, he thought, they could continue writing each other as they exchanged books. While he preferred to hear her thoughts about literature in person, it would be a fun way to continue to learn more about the girl who had all but turned his final year of high school upside down. _Definitely,_ Gilbert decided, and pulled a blank piece of paper from the back of his English notebook.

While Gilbert was spending his free time fixated on a certain redhead, Anne had more pressing matters on her mind. Tilly was the first of her friends to receive one of those soul marks that she had heard so much about. Anne was curious despite not being linked to the island like the others.

Diana had done her best to explain the traditions around the appearance of soul marks, but Anne supposed that she would have to witness the spectacle in order to truly comprehend it. If it was even possible. Since Irish folks didn’t have soul marks and Anne was as Irish as they come (both by name and blood), she was uncertain that she would ever be able to truly understand the significance of a mark making its appearance.

Sure, Anne found the whole ordeal incredibly romantic. The idea two people were destined to be together, enough so that permanent markings appeared upon their bodies, was something straight out of a fairy tale. If Anne hadn’t been committed to becoming the bride of adventure, she may have been disappointed that she wouldn’t be receiving a mark on her birthday. As it was, however, she was excited for her friend.

Just like any ordinary school day, Anne did not see Tilly until lunchtime, but she and Diana were both noticeably distracted in their morning classes. Although a few other girls had gotten their marks since school started, Tilly was the first of their friends to turn sixteen and both were curious.

The girls all huddled around Tilly at their table, eager to see what a fresh mark looks like. Although Josie had rolled her eyes at her friends’ excitement and insisted that it was not a big deal, even she was casting sidelong, curious glances.

“Let’s see it,” Jane requested. Tilly looked incredibly proud, her chocolate eyes shining deeper than Anne had ever seen as she rolled up her right sleeve to reveal the outline of three interconnected triangles inked at the base of her forearm.

“What do you think it means?” Ruby asked innocently.

“Soul marks don’t have to have meaning, Ruby. This isn’t a fairy-tale.” Josie rolled her eyes. Ruby looked crestfallen.

“I’m not sure,” Tilly shrugged. “Neither of the Pauls have turned eighteen yet, so I don’t even know if it’s one of them.”

Anne furrowed her brow. To her, the meaning—if there was one—was obvious. “Is it possible to have more than one soul mate?” Josie scoffed while the rest of the girls shrugged, their attention focused on Anne.

“I mean, triangles have three sides, you have three triangles, and they’re all interconnected,” Anne continued. “Perhaps that means you have more than one?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Anne!” Josie sneered. “I know that explaining this whole concept of soul mates to an outsider is useless, but the whole point of having a soul _mate_ is that you’re meant to have _one_ person whose soul matches yours.”

Diana glared at Josie and reprimanded her for being so rude to Anne while Jane and Ruby focused their attentions on their food. Tilly, however, appeared to be considering Anne’s words.

“I mean, I have been having trouble choosing between two boys for as long as I can remember. Having two soul mates _would_ mean that I don’t have to choose between them once their marks appear.” She seemed pleased with the possible revelation.

In the meantime, Anne was furious with Josie. “I’m Irish, not stupid!” she shouted. “And I may not get a mark, but at least I’m not vile and close-minded like you!”

Josie turned bright red, realising that Anne’s shouting brought attention to their table and to her specifically. Meanwhile, Anne was so annoyed that she didn’t care to stick around. After apologising to Tilly—who didn’t look the least bit fazed—Anne stormed out of the cafeteria.

An awkward silence fell over the cafeteria, no one quite sure what brought on the yelling, save the girls still seated at the table Anne had vacated and a particular curly-haired brunet.

Shaking his head, Gilbert stood from his table across the room and muttered, “Whatever you said, you had better apologise, Josie,” as he passed the girls’ table.

Given Anne’s outburst, Gilbert was certain that Josie had reminded Anne that she didn’t belong on PEI, something he thought couldn’t be further from the truth. He was hopeful that he would be able to locate the titian girl before their next class began, but his search proved futile. He checked everywhere that she might go—aside from the girls’ wash rooms of course—including the library and Miss Stacey’s classroom, but the girl was nowhere to be found.

Gilbert began to worry when the bell rang at the start of English and Anne still hadn’t appeared, so he did his best to focus and took duplicate notes again. At the end of class when Miss Stacey gave them a few minutes to read independently, he penned a short letter to slip in with Anne’s set of notes. He would seek out Diana between classes since she might know more about the girl’s whereabouts. And, even if she didn’t, Diana would certainly be willing to bring Anne’s notes to Green Gables.

* * *

_Dear Anne,_

_You never showed up for class and while I am worried about you, I figured the best I could do is prepare a second set of notes for you. I’m not sure what Josie said to you, but given your reaction I can make assumptions and know that whatever was said was uncalled for. You might not be from here, but that should not matter…nor should your lack of a soul mark. As long as you’re an inherently good person—which you most definitely are—that’s all that matters. That’s all that_ should _matter anyways. I’m sorry that not everyone here seems to think so and it’s their loss if they can’t look past something so insignificant._

_Like I said, I’m worried about you. It was so difficult to pay attention when I was wondering where you were and if you were alright. As you’ll see when you look at the notes, you chose a good day to go_ _AWOL as we didn’t accomplish much—due in large part to Garner asking Miss Stacey too many pointless questions yet again. Is he always so irritating, or does this only happen when you’re out of class?_

_Anyways, I hope that you don’t let Josie’s words get to you. The Pyes are notorious for their unpleasant demeanour, after all. If you need to rant to someone, I’m sure Diana is your first choice, but if she’s unable to take on the task for any reason, well you know where to find me._

_Sincerely,  
_ _Gilbert_

_P.S. I almost forgot to mention. I have a free weekend from hockey coming up. I believe I promised to take you skating sometime. Let’s go this Saturday at 3pm. Don’t try and make up any excuses because I won’t take no for an answer!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this was so short, but it was a bit of a necessary filler. Next chapter is a big one and features quite a bit of Gilbert’s perspective. I’ve got a lot of things on my plate at the moment, so it may take a wee while, but I’ll have it posted as soon as I can. This time, it might be a 2-week delay, but I’ll try to have the next chapter up before then.


	9. Chapter 8

_Dear Anne,_

_You never showed up for class and while I am worried about you, I figured the best I could do is prepare a second set of notes for you. I’m not sure what Josie said to you, but given your reaction I can make assumptions and know that whatever was said was uncalled for. You might not be from here, but that should not matter…nor should your lack of a soul mark. As long as you’re an inherently good person—which you most definitely are—that’s all that matters. That’s all that_ should _matter anyways. I’m sorry that not everyone here seems to think so and it’s their loss if they can’t look past something so insignificant._

_Like I said, I’m worried about you. It was so difficult to pay attention when I was wondering where you were and if you were alright. As you’ll see when you look at the notes, you chose a good day to go AWOL as we didn’t accomplish much—due in large part to Garner asking Miss Stacey too many pointless questions yet again. Is he always so irritating, or does this only happen when you’re out of class?_

_Anyways, I hope that you don’t let Josie’s words get to you. The Pyes are notorious for their unpleasant demeanour, after all. If you need to rant to someone, I’m sure Diana is your first choice, but if she’s unable to take on the task for any reason, well you know where to find me._

_Sincerely,  
_ _Gilbert_

_P.S. I almost forgot to mention. I have a free weekend from hockey coming up. I believe I promised to take you skating sometime. Let’s go this Saturday at 3pm. Don’t try and make up any excuses because I won’t take no for an answer!_

Anne couldn’t help but tear up when she read Gilbert’s note. They were long beyond Anne’s skepticisms of him, but she was still constantly surprised at his compassion. The boy was bound to make an excellent doctor someday.

She had managed to convince the school nurse to send her home with a stomach ache and had fled from the school before anyone could see her. If Marilla suspected anything when Anne returned home flushed with bloodshot eyes, she never said anything. Instead, she let Anne sit in her room and quietly dropped off some tea. She returned sometime later with a small folder from Diana and informed her that she was expected downstairs for dinner, having told Diana to send apologies to Tilly that Anne was unwell and couldn’t attend her birthday dinner.

If Anne knew any better, she might have thought Marilla understood why she had arrived back at Green Gables early and so upset. An outsider who faced great adversity when she first moved to the island herself, Marilla knew all too well how cruel people could be.

Anne picked at her food that evening and barely spoke at all. As soon as the dishes were cleared, she retreated to her bedroom, where she found Gilbert’s note amongst her assignments.

* * *

Saturday morning was crisp as ever. Anne was beginning to adjust to the colder, snowier maritime Canadian climate, but awaking to the sight of snow gleaming beneath the bright sun was a welcome sight that she didn’t think she would ever be used to, nor would she tire from.

December was approaching, which meant that each day felt impossibly colder than the one before. Anne was grateful that her wardrobe consisted mostly of thick jumpers and wooly tights, but even then, she was at a loss on what to wear skating.

Equal parts nervous and excited, she had accepted Gilbert’s invitation on two conditions; one, that he wouldn’t laugh at her if she fell and two, that they could get hot chocolate afterward since she had heard that it was the thing to do after an afternoon of skating. She had eagerly awaited this day all week and now that it had finally arrived, Anne felt a bit on edge. There was something about spending time with her academic rival and friend that set her on edge, even though she enjoyed his company more than anyone else she had met in Avonlea—save Diana, of course.

Once she got over the hump created by her own temper, spending time with Gilbert was easy, but nerve-wracking at the same time. She loved the way that he would let her ramble on about the book she was reading without interruption and how he never lost patience with her, even when she was frustrated over her geometry homework or ranting about one of Mr. Phillips’ many disparaging remarks; Anne supposed that patience would come in handy this afternoon, since she had never set foot on ice before. Gilbert certainly had a way of provoking the already adventurous girl to try new things.

Anne was surprised when a dark green Jeep pulled into the driveway at Green Gables, Gilbert behind the wheel. In spite of the bitter cold weather, she had become used to walking through the snow and had assumed that was how they would go to the rink.

By the time Anne had finished lacing her boots, Gilbert was walking up the porch steps. The two met just outside the door, Anne nearly running into him. “Hello,” she greeted, cheerfully. “We’re not walking today?”

Gilbert grinned and shook his head. “Nah, it’s too cold so my dad let me borrow his car.” He motioned for her to follow him. Without thinking, Anne walked over to the driver’s door and was about to open it when Gilbert smirked. “Did you want to drive.” Anne blushed, hoping she could pass the red on her cheeks off as a reaction to the cold air.

“Erm, sorry…habit,” she explained, walking to the passenger door and climbing inside. “You lot drive on the opposite side of the road and I always seem to forget that the steering wheel is on the opposite side.”

Chuckling, Gilbert made sure that she was ready to go and put the car in drive. “Fair enough. Feel free to control the heat and the radio, just none of that bubblegum pop crap, please.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Do I look like the sort of person who listens to pop?” Gilbert just shrugged. Anne turned on the radio and found it set to the local alt-rock station, which suited her just fine. They rode the rest of the way in companionable silence.

When they arrived, Gilbert opened the back of the Jeep to reveal a few different pairs of skates in various states of use. “I wasn’t sure what size you were, so I brought most of my old pairs just in case,” he explained. “If none of them fit, you can rent a pair, but any of these will be more comfortable.”

Thankfully the pair that fit her was in better shape than most of the others, though Anne voiced her disappointment that she didn’t get to try the “elegant white boots with the pom-poms” that she saw a few girls lacing up after they had paid for their admission. “But hockey skates are much easier to learn on,” Gilbert tried to reason while Anne pouted dramatically.

Eventually, Anne resigned herself to the fact that Gilbert was the expert in this scenario. Once they were both laced into their skates (and after Gilbert had insisted on making sure Anne’s laces were tight enough), the two took to the ice. Gilbert held his hand out to Anne as if to steady her as she stepped onto the slippery surface, but ever too headstrong and proud, Anne bypassed his gesture and, after a few wobbly steps, proceeded to fall and land on her backside.

Gilbert barely managed to stifle his laughter from Anne, whose cheeks immediately became enflamed and offered a hand to help her back onto her feet. Anne’s pride shattered, she begrudgingly accepted the gesture this time and allowed Gilbert to help steady her.

“Balancing takes a little getting used to,” he told her kindly.

Anne rolled her eyes. “I can see that. How do you make it look so easy?”

“Years of practice. As soon as my feet were big enough for the smallest skates, my dad had me out on our pond. Try taking a few small steps and once you get comfortable, try pushing one foot diagonally behind you.”

Anne followed Gilbert’s instructions and managed a few wobbly steps, this time keeping her balance intact. A proud smile broke out across her face. “See, I can do this!”

Gilbert chuckled, impressed by Anne’s confidence. He was absolutely stunned by the girl’s fearlessness, knowing if their roles were reversed, he would be much more hesitant. “Good, now try pushing one foot back diagonally while keeping the toes of your other foot pointed straight ahead…like this,” he instructed, demonstrating by taking a few slow strides himself.

Anne began to do as Gilbert instructed and wobbled, nearly collapsing to the ice again in the process. Gilbert frowned when he saw the look of disappointment (or perhaps frustration) etched across Anne’s face. “Finding your balance is the hardest part,” he reiterated his earlier statement. “Try bending your legs slightly as if you’re about to sit in a chair.” Anne followed his instruction. “Good, now take my hands. I’ll help you keep steady until we find your balance.” He faced her and held his hands out. Anne reluctantly allowed him to lock their fingers together before Gilbert began slowly skating backwards, instructing Anne on how to push off against the ice.

In no time, Anne was getting the gist of things and was feeling more comfortable on her feet. By the time the skate guards were ushering everyone off the ice, Anne was able to glide forward at a slow, yet steady pace and Gilbert no longer had to worry that she would fall if he didn’t help her balance (not that it stopped him from holding her hands for support as often as she would allow).

“I believe you promised me hot chocolate,” Anne teased as they made their way back to the car.

“I haven’t forgotten. I know you’ve come to appreciate the stuff sold at the rink, but since we’re doing stereotypically Canadian winter activities today, I plan on introducing you to a real delicacy.”

Whenever Anne asked where they were going, Gilbert just silenced her with a, “You’ll see,” until they were turning into the parking lot of a coffee chain on the other side of town.

“I thought we’d go through the Timmy’s drive-thru,” he explained. “I know Tim Horton’s is a chain, but it’s quintessentially Canadian.”

Anne nodded in affirmation. When it was their turn to order, Gilbert asked for a medium hot chocolate, a medium French vanilla double-double, and a box of assorted Timbits for them to share. Anne furrowed her brow at the boy’s strange request, but ultimately, she trusted him to know what was best around there. The menu did look much different from what she was used to seeing at Costa after all.

Once Gilbert had paid and they were back on the road, she asked him, “What exactly did you order?”

“This is a medium coffee with two cream, two sugars, and French vanilla flavouring. Double-double means two cream and two sugars. Tim Horton’s is famous for it. Timbits, which are in the carton I handed you, are an assortment of mini donuts. Try one,” he encouraged, reaching over and grabbing one himself. “Dad used to take me here after early morning practises when I first started playing.”

Anne nodded and sipped her hot chocolate. It was good, albeit more sugary than what she was used to. It was also much better than the rink’s hot chocolate, which she often got during the high school hockey games. She had to admit that the donuts were much better than the Krispy Kreme sold at Tesco, too.

The pair were speechless on the short drive back to Green Gables, simply enjoying their warm beverages, selection of donut holes, and each other’s company. It was rare that Anne was so quiet at all, but—whether she realised or not—Anne was beginning to trust the boy beside her implicitly, an honour bestowed on very few. She had truly enjoyed herself and was almost sad that they were making their way up her driveway. If Gilbert wanted to go skating again, she wouldn’t protest, especially if the afternoon ended like this.

* * *

November turned into December, and each day, Gilbert found himself thinking about soul marks with greater frequency than ever before. His eighteenth birthday was soon approaching, just a week before Christmas and he couldn’t help but wonder if soul marks were really as important as people on the island seemed to think they were.

Everyone who was born on the island knew about soul marks from the time they were little. Gilbert recalled his father picking him up from school one day when he was around nine or ten. Gilbert’s class had just started learning the particulars of soul marks and the young boy was bursting with questions. _“Does getting your mark hurt, Dad?”_ he had asked almost as soon as his father had closed the car door. _“Not physically,”_ John Blythe answered, a wistful look in his eyes.

When Gilbert asked what he meant, John told him a story about how he thought he was in love with a girl from high school. _“You know how girls get their mark two years before boys do, right?”_ Gilbert nodded. _“Well, there was this girl at school who I thought was very pretty. We started dating when we were both fifteen, so she got her mark before I did.”_

_“We thought we were in love.”_ Gilbert scrunched up his nose. _“Everyone in Avonlea assumed that I would get a mark just like hers when I turned eighteen.”_

_“But you didn’t, did you?”_ Gilbert asked, ever perceptive. _“Else you wouldn’t have married Mom.”_ John nodded.

_“She had a smattering of dots on the inside of her wrist, but I woke up on my birthday to find a small fir tree. We were both devastated.”_ John glanced at his son through the rear-view mirror. Gilbert was staring at him with a sad, concerned look on his face. _“Naturally, we broke up as soon as we realised that we were headed down different paths. I’m pretty sure she met her soulmate at university in Charlottetown. They live in Summerside now. Meanwhile, I met your mom in my third year at Dalhousie and we’ve been in love ever since.”_

Gilbert smiled, pleased that his father’s story had a happy ending. The young boy hoped that he wouldn’t fall in love with anyone before he got his mark. That way, he wouldn’t have to worry about feeling sad if they weren’t soulmates.

Nearly a decade later, Gilbert was torn. For years, he had looked forward to his eighteenth birthday but then, when he least expected it, an Irish spitfire had waltzed into his life and everything had changed; her grey-green eyes and adventurous spirit had instantly captured his attention. Suddenly, Gilbert found himself almost dreading his birthday. He was still looking forward to getting his soul mark and eventually finding his soulmate, but knowing that it could never be Anne saddened him for reasons that he could not explain.

Despite their rocky beginning, he enjoyed her presence more than most of his other friends. She was the only girl who had ever managed to captivate his attention, and not just because of her beauty—of which Gilbert was certainly aware. Few people challenged him so intellectually or made him laugh the way that she always managed to when they were meant to be studying in the café after school.

Gilbert was aware that he and Anne were never meant to be, so he couldn’t help but wonder if his affection toward her was merely platonic. If he really thought about things, she was his best friend after all. Sure, he was rather popular due to his status as a varsity athlete and he had other friends whom he had grown up with, but they were all guys. Perhaps the fact that Anne was the first girl who had managed to capture his attention in any capacity had left him confused? That must be it, Gilbert deduced. Either way, he decided that he wouldn’t mention his soul mark—once he received it—to anyone unless specifically asked.

* * *

Christmas had always been one of Anne’s favourite times of the year and this year was no different. Well, a lot was different if she really stopped to think about things, but her love of the holiday season had only intensified. For the first time in her young life, Anne was about to experience her first truly white Christmas and excited didn’t begin to cover the array of emotions that she was feeling.

Anne was grateful that Marilla seemed to have maintained several of the Christmas traditions that she had grown up with, but Anne was also looking forward to adopting a few Canadian traditions, too. She would miss going into the city for the Belfast Christmas Market, no doubt, but Charlottetown had its own festival—which Diana had eagerly dragged Anne through. The festival was not as grand as the Belfast affair, nor did it last as long, but Anne was thrilled to walk through the open market with her dear friend.

It had become common for Anne to come home to an array of welcoming smells coming from the kitchen as Marilla appeared to be baking enough to feed a small army. She insisted, however, that she didn’t have enough time to make half as many treats as she would like, but Anne’s lunch always seemed to contain an extra piece of gingerbread or a few mince pies.

Shopping for gifts was perhaps Anne’s favourite part of the Christmas holiday and she relished in the opportunity to show her friends just how much she cared for them. For Diana, Anne had purchased a delicate bracelet with a tiny moon charm at the Christmas market, and an identical one for herself with a sun. Ruby would receive a pale pink wool scarf since she was always complaining that she was too cold. Jane would be getting the same scarf in a deep blue. Since she wasn’t as friendly with Josie and Tilly, Anne had decided to give them each a small tin of gingerbread cookies and mince pies.

Selecting gifts for the girls had been easy. Gilbert, on the other hand, had taken quite a bit of thought. Out of all of her friends, Gilbert seemed to be the only one that was her true intellectual equal and for some reason, that made figuring out what to get him significantly harder. She knew that he liked hockey and was fascinated by science and medicine, but wanted to gift him something that truly reflected their friendship. Besides, the boy probably had way too much hockey paraphernalia to begin with and he would be living under a stack of medical texts for years to come if his plans to become a doctor persisted.

Since their afternoon of skating, Anne and Gilbert had been spending much more time together outside of an academic setting. They had returned for public skating a few times and Anne was really beginning to get the hang of it. Gilbert seemed overly determined to ensure that Anne got the full Canadian Winter experience, so together they had built a snowman, engaged in a snowball fight (which Anne definitely won, since “tackling is cheating, Gilbert”), and spent several Sunday afternoons watching movies and drinking hot chocolates (which he had picked up from the local Tim Horton’s) when they were meant to be catching up on homework.

The more Anne thought about it, the more she realised that since Gilbert was so eager to introduce her to the finer aspects of Canadian culture, she should gift him something that reflected her own culture. As such, she had ordered him a book on the Fenian Cycle at the bookstore in Charlottetown and was keen to hear his thoughts on Irish folklore.

* * *

The first thing Gilbert noticed when he woke up on his eighteenth birthday was that he didn’t feel any different than he had the day before, or the day before that and so on. The day one was meant to receive their soul mark was so hyped up in Avonlea (and likely throughout the island) that Gilbert had expected to feel something. Instead, he just felt numb. Not receiving a mark was a shameful experience, but on the other hand, having one meant that there was no possible way that Anne could ever become anything more than a friend.

Since her arrival—and especially since her first time skating—the girl had been a near permanent fixture in Gilbert’s mind. There was something about her simplistic beauty, the lilt of her voice, and her inherent sense of adventure that drew him in. If there was any girl he wished to bear the same mark as him, it was her—an impossibility that left him on a certain path toward disappointment.

When Gilbert was small, he had asked John Blythe if receiving your soul mark hurt. He had been too young to fully comprehend what his father meant by “not physically,” but now, at eighteen years old, the man’s words replayed in his mind as he began to inspect the fresh ink that had appeared on the inside of his wrist overnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favourite things about Christmastime in the British Isles was the German-style markets that sprung up in early November (and the holiday meal deal sandwiches). It appears that Charlottetown has a similar tradition, but it’s only the first weekend of December if the website is anything to go by. I apologise for the delay and apologise in advance for the upcoming chapter’s delay, but should be back to regular updates once that chapter is posted. I had a bit of writer’s block with this one (despite having the entire chapter outlined).


	10. Chapter 9

Gilbert took his time examining the dark lines that had imbedded themselves in his skin overnight. They looked as if they had been there all along; perhaps it had been. If a soul mark determined who a person was meant to be with, then surely the mark existed at the beginning of their lifetime, even if it made no appearance until its bearer was nearing adulthood.

Perhaps thirty minutes had passed, or maybe an hour. Gilbert wasn’t sure how long he spent tracing the image that might someday lead him to his soulmate. Where his skin had previously been smooth and pale, there was now a delicate apple tree—as a farm boy (on an orchard, no less) he had recognised it almost instantly—complete with roots which were tangled below the sturdy trunk in an intricate pattern.

His heart felt heavy and they weight of the emotions which his mark brought forth confused him. Receiving a soul mark was meant to be a happy occasion; it meant that he belonged to the island, but more importantly it meant that he belonged to someone else and they to him. In the past few months, however, as Gilbert’s eighteenth birthday drew nearer, he found that he was less preoccupied with “belonging to the island” and having a soul mate than the rest of his peers. He had big plans, dreams of leaving the island behind, at least for a little while, in his quest to become a doctor—and a good one at that.

Since a certain redhead—who he was doing his best not to think about—had waltzed into his life, Gilbert had also become less enthused about discovering the link that would lead him to his soulmate. While the topic was all that his friends seemed to want to talk about, Gilbert wanted to avoid it like the plague.

Gilbert’s university applications were due weeks ago, at the beginning of December not a single school on his list was located on Prince Edward Island. August was still months away. What would happen if he met his soulmate before then? Surely leaving—even if temporary—would be incredibly selfish of him…unless he could manage to avoid meeting his soulmate somehow.

As soon as the idea crossed him, Gilbert made up his mind; he would do everything in his power to avoid meeting his soulmate. He could get away with wearing long sleeves until at least May—the end of June even, if the weather forecast worked in his favour. That would leave two months _at most_ where he would have to worry about someone discovering his mark. Surely there was some sort of makeup product he could use, too. He would have to ask his mother about that; surely she would understand his conundrum.

The fact of the matter was that, though Gilbert Blythe was eighteen years old, he was nowhere near ready to search for his soulmate and he would do everything in his power to prevent it from happening. His motives for keeping his mark hidden had nothing to do with Anne Shirley, not one bit.

When he was younger, Gilbert had always been disappointed that his birthday always fell after school had closed for Winter Break, but he was secretly thankful this time around. Sure, he had always wished he could celebrate in class on his actual birthday like the other kids, but now it allowed him to pretend as if nothing ever happened. Or at least, it allowed him to pretend that it was just an ordinary day as much as his mother would allow.

Elise Blythe had been waiting for this day in a mixture of excitement and sadness. She was excited for her baby boy to receive a mark that would lead him to his greatest love, but at the same time she was sad that it meant that he would someday leave; though, as Gilbert often reminded her, he was leaving for university in August anyhow. She supposed she would be a wreck when that day eventually arrived, but for now, she was focused on celebrating her son’s birthday.

Gilbert wasn’t the least bit surprised when he walked into the kitchen room to discover that Elise had plastered balloons to every surface that she could find. She had done this every year for as long as he could remember, and this time was no different.

“Happy Birthday, my baby!” Elise exclaimed, carrying a plate containing a large cinnamon roll with a candle sticking out of its centre, which she set at Gilbert’s usual place at their table.

“Thanks, Mom.” Gilbert smiled sheepishly before blowing out the candle. Just because he was feeling melancholy didn’t mean that he had to ruin his mother’s fun.

Elise chattered animatedly as Gilbert ate his breakfast, thankfully waiting to bring up the topic of soul marks until after he had finished. While he could avoid the subject with his friends, it was no use trying to do so at home. With a sigh, he pulled back his sleeve.

“I don’t want to make a big deal out of this,” Gilbert told his mom, hoping she wouldn’t press him for too much information. Meanwhile, Elise was tracing the lines on her son’s wrist, her eyes glassing over with tears.

“But this is exciting, honey,” she told him. “You’re really growing up.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “I know that, Mom, but I’m in no rush to find my match.” None at all, if he was being honest. “Not a single university I applied for is on the island.” _And the only girl I_ might _ever be interested in won’t be getting a mark at all._

“I’m sure tons of kids leave the island for university. You never know. I mean, your dad and I met in Halifax…”

“Halifax, maybe. But Toronto? Oxford? Half of my applications are outside of the country.” His voice turned sharp, a bitterness that he had been trying to hide cutting through his normally even temper. “I don’t want to find my soulmate now and I don’t know if I ever will, so can we just _drop it_?” he asked before sulking off to his room.

Happy birthday, indeed.

* * *

One of the perks to being off from school was that hockey season was on a brief hiatus as well, leaving Gilbert with more time to relax. Sure he loved the sport, he wouldn’t be on his third season of captaining the team if he didn’t, but sometimes it was nice to have nothing to do.

Rather, it was nice to have extra time to spend with a certain Irish girl. Skating on the pond was one of Gilbert’s favourite things. It was where he had first learnt to skate and where his father first introduced him to hockey. Now, it was providing him with another adventure to bring Anne on. They had returned to the rink a few times, and while she would never be a professional speed skater, her skills were developing quite nicely.

Given Anne’s enchanting attachment to nature and newfound love of the Canadian winter, Gilbert knew that skating outdoors would be yet another thing that she would take to well. Gilbert wasn’t wrong. Anne adored the scenery from the pond insisting that the two of them skating beneath tall trees glistening with snow and ice was straight out of a storybook. Well, until the wind began to pick up.

They had been on the pond for nearly two hours when a small snow squall made its appearance and Gilbert suggested that they spend the rest of the afternoon warming up at his house. After a lengthy argument over whether _Die Hard_ was a Christmas movie (Gilbert said yes, Anne insisted he was insane), they ultimately settle on _A Christmas Story,_ which Gilbert was genuinely shocked that Anne hadn’t seen. “It’s maybe ten years old, but it’s iconic, Anne! Iconic!”

Settled in with mugs of steaming hot chocolate, they started off on opposite ends of the couch. Anne, who was always a bit cold was wrapped up snugly in Gilbert’s favourite blanket. He had only grabbed the one, insisting that he was never cold. Anne assumed that he was telling the truth given his choice of sport, but in the back of her mind, she wondered if Gilbert was being stubborn. _Definitely stubborn,_ she deduced when, about fifteen minutes into the film, Gilbert moved closer and joined her under the blanket. Anne gave him a look as if to say “I told you so,” which Gilbert chose to ignore.

“Anne, I’m coldddd,” he whined, dramatically drawing out the word cold.

Anne’s reaction was to roll her eyes and hold up the end of the blanket for Gilbert to join her. “Shhh, some of us have never seen this before,” she shushed while Gilbert snuggled in.

Despite her verbal indication that she wanted nothing more than to focus on the movie, her thoughts were anywhere but the screen in front of them as they sat close together, shoulders and thighs touching beneath the blanket.

Gilbert was no different. He could feel Anne’s body heat radiating beside him and it was taking all his self-control to keep from wrapping an arm around her and pull her close against his chest. He always thought she was beautiful, but the rosiness in her cheeks, drawn out by an afternoon in the cold Winter air made her look ethereal in his opinion, a dryad who had always belonged to the wooded forests of Avonlea.

Anne, meanwhile, did her best to focus on the film and hoped that Gilbert couldn’t hear her heart pounding as if it might burst through her chest. Subconsciously, at some point during the film, she shifted so that she was leaning against the boy, her head resting against his shoulder. He hardly seemed to mind, enchanted by the sound of her laugh when Ralphie’s father received the leg lamp and again when Flick got his tongue stuck to the telephone pole.

“What did you think?” Gilbert asked her when the credits began to roll.

“It was really funny. I enjoyed it a lot.”

“Good. I still can’t believe you hadn’t seen it before!”

Anne was about to respond when she heard the clock in the hallway chime.

“Is it that late already? Aunt Marilla will be expecting me home for dinner soon.” Anne was not the least bit surprised that they had lost track of time. It was something that happened more frequently than not when the two of them were together. She stood in a slight panic and made to get her things together by the front door.

“Wait!” Gilbert called out to her. “Before you leave, I have something for you.” He ran up to his room while Anne dug through the satchel she had brought with her which contained his gift.

“I have something for you too,” Anne told him when he returned, handing him a dense object wrapped in delicate red paper. In turn, Gilbert handed her an envelope.

“You first,” they both said at the same time before agreeing that they may as well open their gifts simultaneously.

Anne opened the envelope carefully, making sure not to tear whatever was inside. She was expecting there to be some sort of card, but instead pulled out a pair of tickets.

“I hope you don’t have any evening plans on Boxing Day.” Gilbert had stopped unwrapping his own gift, eager to see Anne’s reaction. “I promised to take you to a professional game sometime. The PEI Senators are a minor league team, but the nearest NHL—that’s the major league—teams are in Boston and Montreal, so this is the best I could do. If you’d rather something else, I can always take my dad and find you something different,” he rambled.

Anne chuckled. “Gilbert, this is great,” she assured him. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Gilbert could hardly contain his grin at that. “Now finish opening that,” Anne gestured at the parcel in his hands.

Gilbert carefully tore the rest of the paper to reveal a book with an emerald hard cover and gold lettering. “The Fenian Cycle,” he read aloud, tracing the letters.

“It’s a book of Irish folklore,” Anne explained. “Since you’ve really pushed me to embrace Canadian culture, I thought it was my turn to give a piece of Ireland to you.”

“It’s incredible, Anne! I can’t wait to read it!”

“Let me know what you think when you do. Many of my bedtime stories as a child came from these legends. They’ve been with us for centuries.”

“I’ll definitely let you know. Don’t be surprised if I’ve read this entire thing before we go to the game.”

Anne grinned. “I look forward to hearing your thoughts, but I should get going now. Aunt Marilla’s been pretty lenient in giving me free roam, but her main rule is that I’m always home for supper, so I really can’t be late.”

Gilbert nodded in understanding, wishing that it was earlier in the day. He was eager to begin reading his new book, but knew that the tales would sound more authentic and enchanting in her lilt. It would be another excuse for them to cuddle up to one another on the couch. Well, perhaps another time…

Anne handed the tickets back to him (“For safe keeping, Gilbert. You know how clumsy I can be.”) and bundled up quickly before pulling the boy into a tight hug.

“Happy Christmas, Gil.”

“Merry Christmas, Anne-girl.”

* * *

Christmas at Green Gables was a rather quiet affair. Where Mrs. Brady was nearly as boisterous as Anne, the Cuthberts were subdued, yet cheerful nonetheless. After attending the Christmas Mass, they had returned home to exchange gifts before sitting down to the feast that Marilla had been preparing for weeks.

Anne was overjoyed at the gifts her aunt and uncle had chosen for her. Marilla had given her a leather-bound notebook and fountain pen so that she could continue to write stories whenever inspiration struck. Matthew had purchased a dozen books at the large shop in Charlottetown. Pleased with Anne’s reaction, he had shyly informed her that one of the shopkeepers had suggested most of the books, but Anne could exchange them if they weren’t her type.

“Don’t be silly!” Anne wrapped her arms around a surprised Matthew who froze for a moment before returning the gesture. “I have yet to come across a book that wasn’t worth reading. I’ll treasure these forever. Thank you, Uncle Matthew!”

Perhaps Anne’s favourite thing about her first Christmas in Canada was Marilla’s Christmas dinner. She wasn’t sure if her aunt had gone out of her way to incorporate some dishes to make Anne feel more at home or if she had held onto the McKeown traditions after she had immigrated. Either way, Anne filled up on so many goose fat roasted potatoes that she barely had any room for the mince pies and Christmas pudding that followed for desert.

All in all, the entire day was a lovely affair and Anne found herself missing her old life in Ireland a little less than she had expected.

The next day was spent snacking on leftover deserts and reading by the fire with Marilla, who was knitting a new blanket for a friend, and Matthew, who seemed content to spend the day napping in his chair rather than labouring in the barn all day.

Anne was so engaged in her book that she nearly lost track of time and had to scramble to make sure that she was ready when Gilbert arrived to take her to the hockey game. As always, she looked forward to spending time with her dear friend and was excited to experience another important part of Canadian culture.

The atmosphere at the arena was unlike anything Anne had ever experienced, certainly livelier than the Avonlea High games which she had become accustom to. Gilbert insisted that the food was part of the experience and insisted on ordering them each a beaver tail and a plate of poutine to share.

The Senators—who Anne learned were at the top of the league—beat the St. John’s Maple Leafs handily in a convincing 4-1 victory. Anne, who loved every minute of their evening, couldn’t stop waxing poetic about the whole experience on their drive home.

* * *

In the days following the hockey game, Anne was so very confused. Gilbert was, without a doubt, her best friend in Avonlea. Diana was her kindred spirit and she loved her dearly, but if it were a competition, Gilbert had been edging past her for quite some time. Her confusion was not in how he had become her best friend, but in how she couldn’t stop thinking about him whenever they were apart.

As a girl, Diana understood many of Anne’s plights much better than Gilbert would ever be able to but even when Anne had considered her to be her sole best friend in Avonlea, the dark-haired girl rarely preoccupied her thoughts where Gilbert was constantly, and Anne simply didn’t understand how this could be.

Anne spent most of the days between Christmas and the New Year diving into the fresh stack of novels that Matthew had been so kind to gift her. So far, she was halfway through her second novel, the first one sitting on her desk full of post-it notes, waiting to be loaned to a certain boy. Whenever Anne came across a part that she wanted to hear Gilbert’s thoughts on, she would mark it with a post-it.

Speaking of Gilbert, the boy had invited her to go skating on Barry’s Pond again, but she had regretfully declined as she was due at Diana’s house around the same time. Mr. and Mrs. Barry were spending New Year’s Eve in Charlottetown and had agreed to allow Diana to throw a small party at their home. Anne would be heading over early that afternoon to help Diana finish decorating and so that the two could get ready together. Gilbert had been visibly disappointed, but told Anne he would see her at the party.

The Barry home was easily one of the larger houses in Avonlea, but given how tastefully Mrs. Barry had decorated for Christmas, there was little for the girls to do once Anne arrived. The majority of the party would take place in the formal sitting room, which had been cleared of most furniture, save for a couple of couches and an armchair near the fireplace. The Christmas tree (one of several throughout the house) had been divested of ornaments and the girls delighted in adorning it with silver and blue baubles and gold tinsel.

What took significantly longer was getting ready. Thus far Marilla had proven to be a lenient guardian in some aspects—Anne was free to come and go for the most part, so long as she kept out of trouble and maintained good grades—but was rather strict and no-nonsense when it came to replenishing Anne’s wardrobe. As such, Anne had been worried about what she might wear for the occasion and yet again, Diana had come to the rescue, insisting that she had the perfect dress for Anne.

When Anne first saw the dress’ colour, she was hesitant since it would probably clash with her red hair, but Diana was adamant that she at least try it. “It looks awful with my skin tone, but it would be perfect for you, Anne! You _have_ to try it!” the brunette had encouraged, emerging from her walk-in closet in a burgundy satin dress that looked to be made for her. Anne took the hanger from her friend with a dramatic sigh and stepped around Diana to change.

The first thing Anne noticed when she put the dress on was that it was form-fitting. However, even she had to admit that it complemented her slender figure nicely. The dress was two layers; a strapless gold satin with a sparkly gold overlay, complete with long sleeves. Where Anne thought the dress would clash with her hair, it complemented the red nicely and brought out the subtle golden flecks in her pale green eyes.

“I told you this dress was perfect for you,” Diana bragged, looking her friend up and down. “I know just what to do with your hair, too!” Anne smiled at her bosom friend, knowing that she could trust the girl implicitly to make sure she looked presentable.

By the time Diana was done with her, they had mere minutes to take a few pictures with Diana’s polaroid camera before making their way back downstairs as people would be arriving any minute. Diana had used her curling iron to give Anne some loose waves and had artfully created a delicate smoky-eye that left Anne feeling incredibly confident.

Every time someone new walked through the door, they caught Anne’s attention, though she couldn’t help but feel disappointed when that person wasn’t Gilbert. Just when she was starting to think that he might not be coming, the boy in question stepped into the room and she spotted him immediately. He was wearing a dark pair of jeans and an emerald jumper which complimented her dress perfectly.

Gilbert appeared to be looking around the room for a moment and Anne could’ve sworn that her heart skipped a beat when his eyes found hers and a grin broke out across his face as he began to walk toward her.

Like at the first party both of them had attended, Gilbert managed to monopolise Anne’s attention—not that she seemed to mind—all night, as they danced for what felt like hours yet no time at all simultaneously. This time, when the music slowed, Anne didn’t find any excuse to run off. She was having a wonderful evening with her best friend. Deep down, she knew that nothing would ever happen between them, but for now, she was content to sway to the music in his arms and their closeness while she still could. Someday, she knew, he would receive his soul mark and, not long after—Anne was certain—he would meet his soulmate and they would be very happy together. When the time came, Anne knew that Gilbert would have less time for her and things would change. She hoped that they would remain close friends, _kindred spirits,_ but thinking of what lay ahead brought forth a wave of melancholy, so Anne decided to focus on the present and ringing in the new year with her friends.

“It’s almost midnight.” Gilbert pulled her from her thoughts, gently tugging her by the hand away from the dancefloor. Wordlessly, he led Anne upstairs and toward the large balcony on the Barry’s second floor. “I thought we might be able to see the fireworks from Charlottetown up here,” he explained, wrapping an arm around Anne’s shoulders once they had stepped out into the cool air.

Anne smiled. Leave it to Gilbert to think of everything. Even when they had been strangers, he seemed to know her so well, but now, some days she wondered if he knew her better than she knew herself. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, staring up at the dark sky which was dotted with stars.

She could tell that Gilbert was about to say something, but was interrupted by a group of people spilling into the front walk below.

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT…” a series of chants echoed up at them. Gilbert turned to face her. His arm that had been around Anne’s shoulders shifted so that his hand rested gently at the nape of her neck.

“…SEVEN, SIX, FIVE, FOUR…”

Gilbert’s free arm wrapped around her waist, pulling Anne closer to him than she had ever been.

“…THREE, TWO, ONE!”

As the partygoers below cheered and fireworks signalled the start of a new year, Gilbert Blythe leaned in to kiss Anne Shirley. He was nervous; his only experience came from a few awkward rounds of “spin the bottle” at Tilly Boulter’s twelfth birthday party. Sure, he had his chances. Kind and popular as the hockey captain was, plenty of girls had expressed interest in him over the years, but none had managed to capture his attention. The fact of the matter was that he had never wanted to kiss anyone else the way he did Anne.

His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in close. However, right as he was about to make contact, he felt Anne’s hand pushing against his chest.

“What are you doing, Gil?” she asked, clearly conflicted. Gilbert was her best friend and she would be lying if she said she didn’t want to kiss him back, but Anne knew she couldn’t. He was destined for someone else and she might not be destined to find anyone at all.

“Anne, I…” Gilbert began, faltering when he realised that he was at a loss for words. How could he tell someone who just blatantly rejected his advances that he fancied them?

“You what?”

“I…I dunno.” He stepped backward, digging his hands into his pockets nervously.

“Gil, I care about you, I really do, but you know we can’t. You’re going to get your soul mark soon and I’ll mean nothing to you. I’ve already lost so many people, I can’t lose you too.”

Gilbert’s tone turned both icy and pleading. “I don’t care about my stupid mark! It means absolutely nothing!”

“It does, though. If I’ve learned anything since moving to this island, it’s that once you turn eighteen, you’ll get a mark on your wrist that will lead you to whomever you’re meant to be with.” She stared into his eyes sadly. “And it’ll never be me,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper.

Instinctively and subconsciously, the fingers of Gilbert’s left hand wrapped around his right wrist, something which Anne noticed immediately.

“You already got it, didn’t you?” she asked, though she already knew the answer. Gilbert nodded and pulled his sleeve up to reveal a mark barely ten days old.

“I don’t care though,” he told her honestly. “It’s just some mark. If it truly meant something, I wouldn’t be falling for you.”

Anne was growing angrier by the second. First, Gilbert had neglected to tell her when his birthday was approaching and had hidden his mark from her. Second, he seemed to think that he could what? Pretend as if it never happened and string her along until he found his soulmate? Then what? Surely he would toss her aside when he found the girl who bore his mark and their friendship would be irreparable.

“It does mean something though, _Gilbert_.” She said his name harshly, unable to contain the rage that was boiling beneath her skin. “Someday, you’re going to meet a girl and she’s going to have that exact mark and you’re going to have to make a choice, only that choice was already made for you, years ago. How is that fair to me?”

“You don’t get it, Anne. I _don’t care_ about this mark. I don’t care about some girl that I’m probably never going to meet. Even if I do, no one will ever compare to you, Anne-girl.”

Under any other circumstances, she probably would have internally swooned if Gilbert had called her Anne-girl. However, she was barely holding it together. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, whether from sadness or anger she was unsure. “Don’t call me that! You clearly didn’t care enough about me to tell me when your birthday was, and you obviously don’t care enough about inevitably breaking my heart when your soulmate comes along. I _never_ want to see you again!” With that, she shoved past him and stormed off.

Gilbert stared at her retreating form in shock. He had decided to ignore his mark to avoid breaking his own heart, but in the process had managed to break hers as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said it would be a while, but inspiration struck and I rearranged my schedule for the week to make it happen. As I've said before, there are a few key bits of plot that have remained unchanged since I first conceived the idea for this story and the beginning and end of this chapter have been a part of the plan from the very beginning.
> 
> I'm sorry if anyone is disappointed with how short the bit about the hockey game was. I'm toying with the idea of making that a one-shot, but I thought it might draw some of the importance away from the beginning and end of this chapter.


	11. Chapter 10

Anne woke up the next morning tangled in Diana’s bedsheets, the girl in question snoring softly beside her. Without moving to look in a mirror, Anne could tell that her hair was tangled, and her eye makeup was a mess. Despite Diana’s best efforts, the mascara and eyeliner had been stubborn as stubborn as the girl who wore them, sealed against her pale skin by the tears that had begun to dry. Diana was not sure what had transpired but could surmise that Anne and Gilbert had had quite the row based on bloodshot eyes and the near catatonic state she had found her freckled friend in when she retired to her room mere hours into the new year. If only she knew what had happened; Gilbert Blythe would probably be a dead man.

Instead, Diana had coaxed Anne out of her dress and into fresh pyjamas, done her best to remove the makeup she had artfully applied on her friend earlier, and tucked her into bed. At that point, it was up to Anne to get to fall asleep. Diana had done all she could (and buzzed on the last of the champagne supply, no less).

While Diana fell asleep beside her, Anne’s mind kept playing her fight with Gilbert on a loop, the image of his mark branded into her memory until she, too, succumbed to exhaustion.

Unlike the last time Diana had comforted her after a fight with Gilbert, Anne didn’t take off as soon as she was conscious enough to do so. The rest of the Barry’s would be returning home soon, no doubt, and Anne was all too aware that she would be unable to hide her upset, puffy bloodshot eyes a dead giveaway that she had spent the better part of 1996 crying. Instead, she set to work on her hair before showering in Diana’s en-suite. The warm water did nothing to wash away the pain of the night before, but it helped Anne feel relaxed enough to drift back to sleep.

When she awoke a second time, Diana was entering the room with a tray of tea and toast for the two of them to share. Knowing how late her bosom friend liked to sleep, Anne deduced that it was sometime early afternoon and, despite her lack of appetite, nibbled on the edges of a slice of bread. Diana, bless her, did not pry for details and simply allowed Anne to cry on her shoulder while she tried to soothe her friend and assure her that everything would be alright. Anne, who felt that nothing would ever be okay again, was too upset to form any words.

By the time she returned to Green Gables, Marilla was taking their dinner off the stove, but Anne begged off, claiming that she wasn’t hungry and just wanted to go to bed. Her sullen attitude continued well into January. Thankfully, she had a week to sulk about before returning to school, but that meant that the Cuthberts were the ones subject to her brooding. She spent the first few days of the new year sitting in her room, crying whenever she noticed something that reminded her of Gilbert. This meant that nearly half her book collection (including two of her new books from Matthew).

Diana stopped by a few times later in the week, worried about her friend, and managed to convince Anne that sitting idle would do her no good. With encouragement and a little extra pocket money from Marilla (who was growing worried over her niece’s sudden change in behaviour), Anne agreed to wander around the Avonlea village with Diana. Their excursion was almost short-lived however, when they walked past Barry’s Pond. Anne stopped dead in her tracks and was struggling to hold tears back.

“Are you alright?” Diana asked, concerned.

Anne barely heard her, distracted by yet another reminder of the boy who broke her heart without even trying. She had already managed to let him ruin most of her remaining days off from school, but she knew that she couldn’t sulk forever. Nodding, she answered. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Diana looked like she didn’t believe Anne, but shrugged and continued to walk alongside her quietly. It was strange for her talkative friend to be so quiet, but Diana knew that Anne would talk about what had happened when she was ready.

Thirty minutes later, the girls found themselves seated across from each other at a small café that Anne had never been to before with a steaming teapot and small collection of pastries between them. Diana was telling Anne about her younger sister’s mishap with her new play makeup set.

“Mother went into the playroom and found Minnie May using her lipstick on one of her dolls, the play set nowhere to be seen.” Diana expected Anne to laugh, but all she did was continue to stir her tea and nod.

“That’s nice.”

“Min’s lucky she didn’t stain the carpet. I think Mother would probably kill her!”

“Sure.”

“Anne, are you even listening?” Diana was certain by this point that her friend had managed to get caught up in her own head again. “I’m thinking of shaving my head and dropping out of school to travel cross-country with a motorcycle gang.”

Anne didn’t look the least bit phased. “Yeah.”

Diana sighed, frustrated and waved a hand in front of Anne’s face. “Anne!”

“What?” the girl asked, her attention now back on Diana.

“Did you hear anything I said?”

Anne shrugged. “Something about your mam giving lipstick to Minnie May and sending her to the other side of Canada, right?”

“Wrong. You know, you don’t have to tell me what happened, but you can’t let it control you, Anne.” Diana reached across the table and gripped her best friend’s hand. “I’m worried about you, Marilla’s worried…”

“I don’t know what to do.” Anne was at a loss. She had experienced a lot of heartbreak in her lifetime, but none had felt like this. The boy she thought was her best friend had lied to her and tried to act as if things were perfectly fine.

“Like I said, you don’t have to talk about it, but keeping things bottled up isn’t helping. You’ve done fantastic work for the newspaper. Perhaps writing might help?” Diana suggested. Anne nodded, not just going through the motions this time.

“You’re right,” Anne agreed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been quite myself lately. I promise to tell you everything, but it might be a while before I’m ready to. I haven’t gotten my head around everything just yet.”

Diana smiled. If Anne was willing to try moving forward, she would do whatever she could to help.

“If you want to tell me that story again, I promise to pay better attention this time,” said Anne with a weak smile.

Diana grinned and launched back into her tale. In no time, the two girls were laughing about the four-year-old’s antics, Anne’s worries temporarily forgotten.

* * *

The next afternoon, Anne decided to take Diana’s advice. An afternoon adventuring with her bosom friend had helped tremendously, but Anne found the melancholy returning when she retired to her room after supper. Marilla and Matthew had been placated by the return of their niece’s pleasant demeanour—even if only temporary—during the meal. Having grown used to her incessant chatter, both had found the silence in their home unsettling in the past few days.

Thanks to Diana, Anne was more determined to sort herself out and had busied herself all morning with helping Marilla take the Christmas decorations down to be stored until next December. With no other chores to tend to after lunch, Anne had gone up to her room to read, but instead found herself left alone with her thoughts.

She had thought Gilbert to be her best friend, but the boy had betrayed her trust and she was not sure how she would be able to look past that. She could never fault him for receiving his soul mark; it was an inevitability out of his control. However, in her eight months on the island, the significance of those marks had been embedded into her brain by nearly every person she had come across. The least Gilbert could have done was given her warning when his eighteenth birthday was approaching; that alone could have been forgivable, but attempting to cross a line with their friendship knowing full well that he would eventually meet his soulmate was inexcusable.

Gilbert Blythe had caused Anne to feel more than she ever knew was possible, but she had managed to keep the emotions that had been building locked away, knowing that he could be nothing more than a good friend. In mere moments, Gilbert had managed to open the floodgates and shatter her trust simultaneously. She still wasn’t sure if she could ever forgive him that, but she was undeniably angry at him and knew that she would be for a long time.

Sitting at her desk, pen in hand, Anne opened the leather-bound notebook from Marilla for the first time. It had been intended for her to write creatively, but Anne was beginning to think that the book would act more as a journal of sorts. But first, she needed to vent at a certain someone and since she was too angry to so much as look at him, well…

_5 th January 1996  
_

_Dear Gilbert,_

_I can’t begin to express how angry I am at you. If I was writing a letter that you were actually going to read, this is the part where I would tell you that I have so very many reasons to hate you right now. If I were telling you this in person, you’d probably be agreeing with me because you always seem to want to put things right when I’m cross. That idea alone only adds to my current anger._

_I have so many things I want to say to you and so many reasons to yell at you, but I’m so upset that I can’t bear to see you. For starters, any trust you had earned is completely banjaxed. As you know, I was wary of you for so long and I thought that you had proven yourself to be a worthy confidant; how wrong I was._

_Let me set things straight here: I’m not angry that you got your soul mark. I of all people around here understand that no one should be faulted for where they come from and you’re of this island. You receiving a soul mark was an inevitability that I was well aware of the day we met. I’m not angry about that, no. I’m disappointed by the fact that you neglected to tell me about it._

_I’m infuriated that you thought so little of me that you hid something that is such a big part of your life and your future. Did you think I’d be anything less than happy for you? Because I would have been thrilled, Gil. As much as it would have saddened me to know that our days of studying together, venturing through the orchard, trading books, and arguing about films were numbered, I would have been thrilled for you—even if I was devastated._

_If this were a perfect world, I wouldn’t have pushed you away at midnight; little would have changed between us. We had a strong platonic bond and I know we would have had an equally strong romantic one. But this isn’t a perfect world. I’ll never belong on this island and you’ll always belong here regardless of where life takes you._

_But did you have to shatter our friendship like that? I had allowed my growing feelings for you to stay dormant for so long and would have been able to continue to do so if not for your selfish actions. Now, I feel as if my heart has been shattered and it’s your fault._

_This is far from the first time I’ve been set up for heartbreak. Growing up never knowing my parents hurt and losing Mrs. Brady, tenfold. But none of that compares to how much you’ve managed to hurt me. None of the other people I’ve lost had a choice in the matter. The lack of fault in those losses leave them worthy of mourning and grief. Your actions were selfish. Whether you feel something for me or not, you are well aware that you are destined to be with someone else. To act on temporary sentiments and ruin whatever semblance of friendship we once had was something well within your control._

_So here we are. I’m incredibly hurt and angry. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you. Perhaps I will someday, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust you like I used to and it’s…All. Your. Fault._

_Regards,  
_ _Anne_

Anne was surprised at how much better she felt after putting her thoughts to paper. She still felt hurt and betrayed and was not yet back to her bubbly self, but turning her emotions into tangible words allowed her to stop fixating on everything that had happened in the past week. While she had only intended to write the one letter, Anne soon found herself carrying her new notebook wherever she went.

_8 th January 1996_

_Gilbert,_

_Okay, so that last letter was meant to be a one-off, but_ _there are so many things I wanted to talk to you about today. Do you remember our first class together? Who am I kidding? Of course you do. I half expected you to try something similar to get my attention today and, while I know you well enough to know that you were respecting my space, it still hurt a bit that you didn’t even try._

_I suppose I got my revenge (if we can even call it that) in English this afternoon, though I’m not sure which of us suffered more. I almost felt bad when I saw the look on your face—yes, even though I refused to look in your direction—when I sat beside Gardner instead of you. It would have been well worth it if not for Miss Stacey choosing today of all days to assign us partner projects. If I had known I’d be teaming up with Gardner, I might have bunked off altogether. You and I would have worked well together, though I now fear that Gardner will bollocks things up if I don’t do all of the work. Add this to the list of reasons why I’m mad at you._

_Regards,  
_ _Anne_

Despite the hurt that Anne was feeling, she found writing the letters to be therapeutic and began writing down all the things she would have talked to Gilbert about if they were still speaking.

_12 th January 1996_

_Gilbert,_

_I was right, Gardner is a complete eejit. I’ve managed to convince him to let me do all of the work, but that means I’ll have a lot less free time. Good thing I suddenly have a lot more free time after school._

_Regards,  
_ _Anne_

_20 th January_

_Gilbert,_

_I just finished possibly the greatest book that I have ever laid eyes on. It was one of the many that Matthew gave me for Christmas. I would tell you about it, but it’s already been added to the stack of books full of post-its that I would loan you if I was speaking to you. I don’t know if I’ll ever loan another book to you again—the idea of never hearing your thoughts on another story is almost as upsetting as your lies were—but I continue to mark the sections where I’m most eager to hear your thoughts nonetheless._

_I’ve managed to turn in the English project early, no thanks to Gardner. You would have been a much better partner without a doubt. I wish this project had been assigned and due before our falling out._

_On a more fascinating/frustrating note, Josie’s birthday is coming up at the end of this month and she’s been insufferable since we returned to school (not that her behaviour toward me isn’t typically insufferable to begin with), which means that she’s constantly pointing out that some of us don’t belong here—as if I wasn’t already aware that I’m an immigrant. She seems pretty adamant that her party will take place on her actual birthday despite it falling on a Tuesday though that may be because Billy Andrews won’t leave her alone. He insists that she’s his soulmate and her birthday will prove it. As awful as she’s been to me, I truly hope her soulmate is anyone but Billy. I wouldn’t wish him on my worst enemy (and I dread to think that he has an equally horrendous match)._

_Is it selfish that I hope her mark doesn’t match yours?_

_Best,  
_ _Anne_

_29 th January 1996_

_Gilbert,_

_Josie Pye is the most insufferable girl I’ve ever met. Scratch that. Josie Pye is the most insufferable person I’ve had the displeasure to know. I half hope she gets Billy’s mark tomorrow. If anyone deserves it, she does. And not just because she mentioned that you were at the top of her list of ideal soulmates that she’s come across. And poor Ruby—I shouldn’t say anything, but since you’re never going to see this, I may as well tell you that she’s fancied you for ages—looked as if she might cry._

_I swear, if that girl makes one more comment about “no good outsider trash,” I will not be responsible for my actions._

_(Never) Yours,  
_ _Anne_

* * *

If Tilly’s sixteenth birthday had been a point of excitement, Josie’s was one of frustration. Per tradition, the girls had worked together to plan Josie’s party though not without complaints and conflicting input from the birthday girl. To say Anne was annoyed would be an understatement. Josie immediately dismissed any suggestions she made but was happy to accept the same ideas from any one of the other girls. It made Anne wonder why she was even included this time around at all.

Nevertheless, after what seemed like far too much time spent planning a gathering that would take place in the middle of the week, Josie’s birthday was upon them yet the girl in question was nowhere to be found.

“She wasn’t in PE this morning. I figured her mother must have let her skip it on account of her birthday,” Tilly told the others at lunch.

“She wasn’t in English with us either,” Jane added.

“For someone so boisterous about getting her soul mark, you’d think she would be here, showing it off to everyone whether they wanted to see it or not,” said Anne. Diana tried and failed to stifle her laughter while the others nodded in agreement.

“This really is so unlike her,” said Ruby, whose new mobile phone began to ring. “Oh, I think this is Josie.”

The other girls did their best to listen in despite the background noise of the cafeteria and were immediately looking to Ruby for answers as soon as she hung up.

“Well?” Tilly asked as soon as Ruby had stored the phone in her bag.

“That was Mrs. Pye. The party’s cancelled because Josie’s ill. She wanted me to tell everyone.” The collective groan that followed would have been laughable under most circumstances, but so much work had gone into planning the event.

“Can’t we just postpone it?” Tilly asked as if the idea were obvious.

“Mrs. Pye said that Josie was adamant that the party be on her actual birthday or not at all.”

“Maybe we could stop by after school with our gift for her at least?” Anne suggested, but the idea was shot down by Jane who was all too familiar with how unreasonable the Pyes could be.

“If Josie is ill, she’ll only allow one of us. Perhaps you could take it.”

Anne thought for a brief moment. She had not been looking forward to the party at all and was relieved that it would no longer be taking place, though she did feel bad for Josie who had been so excited about her big day. Anne avoided the girl outside of their group setting since she was the least accepting of non-islanders, but she would hope that at least one person would go out of their way for her if she were in the same position. Nodding, she agreed. “I’ll do it.”

* * *

The Pyes’ house was smaller than Anne expected, though its front gardens were immaculately landscaped. Anne felt like such an intruder as she walked up the front path to ring the doorbell.

Mrs. Pye answered the door, wary at first of the foreign girl who wanted to see her daughter. Clearly hesitant to welcome anyone into her home, the woman eventually agreed when Anne showed her the card and carefully wrapped parcel. “We all feel so bad that Josie had to cancel her party,” Anne had told her sympathetically, removing her shoes to avoid tracking fresh snow into the house.

After being instructed on where Josie’s room was, Anne went up the stairs at a steady pace. Josie’s room was the only one with a closed door, so Anne knocked hesitantly.

“What now, Mom?” Josie asked as Anne cracked the door open. “Oh, it’s you.” She sounded annoyed, but at closer inspection, Anne could tell that she had been crying.

“I brought your present from all of us.” Anne timidly stepped toward the girl’s bed, arm extended to hand her the parcel.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Is everything alright, Josie?” Concern was evident in Anne’s voice.

“No. Nothing will ever be alright again,” Josie shouted bitterly. “It appears that I’m trash, just like you.”

When the girl held up her wrist, Anne was half expecting to see the same splattered drops of blood that adorned Billy’s wrist. Instead—Anne gasped—Josie’s skin was bare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super thrilled with this chapter. I feel that Anne may have been a bit too whiny, but she is on the brink of sixteen and I'm sure most of us are well aware of how dramatic girls can be at that age.
> 
> I'll try to have the next chapter out within a week. Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 11

Anne gasped—Josie’s wrist was bare. She hadn’t meant to, but she was surprised. The girl had spent the past several weeks driving Anne (and probably everyone else) crazy, obsessing over the impending arrival of her soul mark. And here she was, sixteen and her wrist looked no different than the day before. Anne’s expression softened.

“I don’t need your pity,” Josie snapped.

“I-I don’t pity you. I just wasn’t expecting this is all,” Anne explained quickly. “Do you mind if I sit?” Anne glanced toward the foot of Josie’s bed.

“If you must.”

Hesitantly, Anne sat, careful not to jilt the girl who looked to have been hiding beneath the covers all day. Despite how horribly Josie had treated her, Anne felt compassion toward the blonde. After all, people had been constantly reminding her that she didn’t belong because of her lack of island ancestry. Nevertheless, Anne had managed to find a home and friends who had accepted her in spite of her differences. If she could find acceptance in Avonlea, surely Josie would be no different.

“Look, Josie, I know you dislike me. You aren’t exactly my favourite person either,” Anne began. “But, I know what it feels like—”

“How could you possibly know?” Josie cut her off. “You never belonged here. Meanwhile, I’ve spent my entire life on the island. My family’s been here for eight generations...and every single one of them got their mark.”

Anne furrowed her brow. She truly did feel bad for Josie. “So our circumstances are different, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand what you’re going through to some degree.”

Josie looked sceptical, but Anne continued.

“I never knew my parents because they died when I was wee, but Mrs. Brady—the woman who raised me—was the only family I had ever known. I grew up just outside of Belfast, where there’s been a violent conflict for nearly thirty years. People aren’t exactly immigrating to Ireland, especially Northern Ireland.”

Josie nodded, but looked confused at how all of this was important.

“Last May, Mrs. Brady popped out to the shops and never came home, car bomb exploded as she was leaving the shop. Next thing I know, I’m being put on a plane to live with an aunt I’ve never met on a completely different continent. Forget soul marks for a moment. I have a different accent; the moment I open my mouth, it’s evident that I’m not from here. I had to adapt to an entirely different culture.”

“What does any of this have to do with me?”

“Before I arrived on the island, I had no idea that soul marks existed. If I’m not mistaken, Prince Edward Island is the only place in Canada where soul marks exist, right?”

Josie nodded. “There’s rumours about Vancouver Island, but I think so.”

“Maybe this is fate telling you that you’re not meant to stay here forever. I’ll never be able to hide the fact that I’m not Canadian—not that I’d want to—but not having a soul mark? You’re free to create your own destiny.” Anne paused for a moment. “And for what it’s worth, any friend worth having won’t care that you haven’t got a mark. I know we’re not best mates, but trust me on that.”

Anne took Josie’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. Josie cracked a weak smile. “Thank you,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “But please don’t tell anyone. I don’t know I can face them as is.”

“It’s not my place to tell,” Anne promised.

Josie nodded appreciatively. Anne stood to leave, not wanting to overstay her welcome.

“And Josie?”

“Yeah?”

“At least this means you’re not stuck with Billy Andrews. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

Josie chuckled and it warmed Anne’s heart to know that she had managed to finally get a smile out of the poor girl. Joining in her laughter, Anne wished the blonde a happy birthday and went on her way.

* * *

_30 th January 1996_

_Dear Gilbert,_

_Did you know that it’s possible to be from Prince Edward Island and not receive a mark? One of my friends—I don’t dare say who—is such an unlucky (or lucky depending on how you look at the situation) soul. While I do know what it feels like to be viewed as an outcast here for my own lack of a mark, I cannot imagine what she must be going through…to spend your whole life expecting something that never arrives must be devastating._

_Uncle Matthew never received a mark, but since we’re related by marriage, I know nothing about his ancestry (hell, I don’t even know a thing about my father’s side) and presumed that his relatives may have settled here much later than most._

_Is it selfish of me to wish that you had not received your mark either? Why did I bother writing that? Of course it’s selfish. That doesn’t make it any less true. If you were an anomaly, the new year would have begun much differently. I would have let you kiss me, for one. I’d probably be finishing my creative writing assignment at the café right now, waiting for you to drive me home after practise. But you did get your mark, so best not to dwell on could haves and focus on the present._

_I did my best to console the poor girl, but I don’t know if it worked. While I’m sure it feels like the end of the world to her right now, I do hope that she realises that there is so much opportunity out there for her. She’s free to venture beyond the island without worrying that she might be leaving something important behind. I believe I once told you that I intend to be the bride of adventure and that still holds true. The world is much bigger than this island and I cannot wait to someday explore it all!_

_(Wishing I Could Be) Yours,  
_ _Anne_

* * *

Josie was absent from school for the rest of the week and Anne, not wanting to betray the girl’s confidence, told the girls that she had the flu and that Mrs. Pye wouldn’t let Anne visit with her since she might be contagious. In reality, Anne had stopped by on her way home each day. Although she could not foresee becoming best mates, Josie was noticeably kinder to her and Anne decided that she may have found a kindred spirit in the blonde after all.

After that first visit, neither girl broached the subject of soul marks. Instead, Anne regaled Josie with the latest drama at Avonlea High. Tilly had started dating a _third_ guy, someone from a rival school, and both Pauls seemed determined to prove that they were the guy for her. Josie had rolled her eyes at this, but agreed with Anne when she told her how she and Diana suspected that both Pauls would have the same mark as Tilly, so all of the drama was a waste.

By the time Josie returned to school, it was a week before Valentine’s Day, so the students of Avonlea High were much too preoccupied to pry for details on her soul mark. Anne overheard her telling the few that did ask that she wanted to focus on getting into a good university before finding her soulmate, so she intended to keep her mark covered until the time was right. If anyone noticed how much kinder Josie was to Anne or how the two sat beside each other at lunch without bickering, no one mentioned it.

In the meantime, as Valentine’s Day approached, Anne learned of a new school tradition. Apparently, it was common for boys to decorate the lockers of girls whom they suspected to be their soulmate—as well as for the rare couple who had found each other already. For many, it was wishful thinking, Anne was sure, but the gesture was sweet nonetheless. Naturally, the Pauls kept trying to outdo one another for Tilly and Billy made no secret in his pursuit of Josie. Ruby was elated to find fresh flowers each morning (which she insisted must be from Gilbert, while everyone else was well aware that her admirer was Moody Spurgeon McPherson). Anne was not surprised in the slightest to see Diana’s locker overflowing with notes, flowers, and sweets but she was shocked to discover that she had an admirer of her own—especially considering that it was a known fact that she was an “outsider.”

The handwriting was familiar, but far messier than Gilbert’s scrawl—something which disappointed Anne more than she would ever admit—and each note simply contained a literary quote. By the 12th, however, she had discovered that the person in question was Roy Gardner. _Of course it’s him,_ she thought when she saw him not-so-subtly tape yet another book passage to her locker. He had the strangest tastes, too. _Ethan Frome, Catcher in the Rye,_ and _Grendel_ were far from her romantic ideals. In fact, why Roy had chosen to quote _Grendel_ of all books really confused her.

“I knew he was thick, but is Gardner really that dense to think I might be his soulmate? I’m not even from here!” she vented to her friends that afternoon. “And by his choice of quotes, he doesn’t get me _at all_!”

If only it could have been Gilbert.

* * *

By late February, Gilbert found himself in quite the predicament. When he had applied to universities before Christmas, he had hoped he would be accepted to at least one. Medicine was a highly competitive field and even the best of students often failed to secure a place in a good program. So naturally, Gilbert had applied to many—eleven to be exact—and had heard back from nine. Not a single school had rejected him.

To make matters worse, he had scholarship offers from six of them. Gilbert had anticipated _maybe_ three acceptance letters—if he was lucky—and was hoping that a scholarship would decide where he ended up. Instead, it appeared that he would have to make the difficult choice himself.

Although Johns Hopkins, Yale, and McGill had incredible programs, Gilbert wasn’t incredibly disappointed that they hadn’t offered him any scholarships. Johns Hopkins was a bit farther from home than he would like to be. Yale would certainly open so many doors, but Gilbert didn’t see himself as an Ivy League man, nor could he picture himself living in Montreal, so McGill would have been off the table anyways.

That meant he was left to decide between Toronto, Dalhousie, Glasgow, McMaster, St Andrew’s, and Waterloo. Waterloo had been Gilbert’s safety school, so he was able to eliminate it immediately. He had like Dalhousie’s campus well enough when he had visited on an open day, but so many people from the island went there and Gilbert couldn’t help but wonder what else was out there. McMaster would be nice, but had far less prestige and opportunity to make professional contacts than Toronto.

Gilbert had always had a sense of adventure and that had influenced his decision to apply to British Universities. His father’s family had immigrated from Scotland in the early 1800s, and it had always been a dream of Gilbert’s to explore the highlands. Glasgow, Edinburgh, and St Andrews all had excellent programs. However, it appeared that St Andrews was more geographically isolated than he would like. He was still awaiting word from Edinburgh (and Oxford, because why not), but Glasgow had offered him a place on their course and full tuition provided that he maintained his current marks and graduated on time.

How he wished he could talk to Anne about all of this. Surely she would have some insight that could only help make the best decision. Perhaps she would encourage him to move to Scotland and see a bit more of the world. Or maybe she would insist that he move to Toronto. Maybe she would advise that he take a gap year first, so they could go off to uni together. No, that was too much wishful thinking, he chided himself. Even in a perfect world where Anne wanted him back, she would encourage him to take advantage of every opportunity.

The odds of meeting his soulmate outside of Canada were incredibly slim, but it wasn’t as if he wanted one. Nearly two months of silent treatment from Anne and he still worried that he would end up resenting whatever unfortunate girl shared his mark. It pained him to see her laughing with her friends at school, to hear her discuss literature in Miss Stacy’s class, to be in such close proximity with Anne every day yet unable to interact with her.

Being able to attend the University of Toronto would be an absolute dream, but in light of recent events, Gilbert was feeling the strong urge to run. If his current state of mind didn’t improve drastically, something told him that he would be boarding a transatlantic flight come August.

At least he still had a few months to make up his mind.

* * *

While Gilbert was working out the next steps in his quest to become a doctor, Anne was facing a conundrum of her own. On the brink of sixteen, her birthday was approaching quicker than she would like.

She was meant to be taking a break from her GCSE revision to visit London. As much as Mrs. Brady detested the crown, she had promised a nine-year-old Anne that she would take her to the British Museum and the British Library for her sixteenth birthday after the girl had come home from school begging to see the Elgin Marbles after learning about Ancient Greece. Over the years, as Anne developed a passion for literature, the British Library had been added to the list.

Now, here Anne was, seven years later, on the other side of the ocean. There would be no more birthday excursions with Mrs. Brady, nor would there be any great reason to celebrate. While her newfound friends awaited their sixteenth birthdays with baited breath, Anne felt out of place.

There would be no lavish party to celebrate her soul mark because there would be no mark. Her birthday would come and go, no more extraordinary than any other day. Gilbert would still have a mark on his wrist and hers would look the same as it ever had. Gilbert aside, Anne was not disappointed that she would not have a mark. Rather, the idea of being able to pave her own future was exciting; she could go anywhere or do anything she pleased without worry. She could seek out a great romance—like the many she had read about—if the notion struck her fancy. She could be the bride of adventure as she had often desired to be. Nothing, _no one_ , was stopping her.

However, considering this was her first birthday without her beloved guardian and in an entirely new place to boot, Anne felt conflicted. Realistically, she should have been excited. She looked forward to her birthday each year, but to be celebrating her first birthday since Mrs. Brady’s passing and in a place where sixteen was a much more significant age for girls saddened her.

She knew that Matthew and Marilla would do their best to ensure that her day was lovely, but her new age would just serve as another reminder that she would never properly belong in Avonlea or on the island.

For the first time in her short life, Anne Shirley found that she was dreading her birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one is a bit shorter than usual, but not much is happening at this point. Some important stuff lies ahead and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it all. I've had the next chapter written for a while and intend to have it up in 2-3 days.
> 
> Sidenote: as I'm sure many of you know, in book canon, Diana's birthday is in February. In this verse, it will be in April (for reasons that will be revealed in due time).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said it would be a few days, but I really can't wait to hear your thoughts on this one and I have a good bit of the next chapter written, so...
> 
> I posted Chapter 12 on 9th July, so please make sure you read that one first!

March in Avonlea was not what Anne expected. With Winter officially reaching its end, she had thought that the seemingly permanent layers of snow and ice would begin to thaw under a sun glowing with a brightness that had been absent for many months. However, the new month was greeted with one of the harshest snowstorms to hit the island since her arrival and the temperature continued to remain sub-zero. The sky remained gloomy as she was used to seeing for most of the year (she would never take a sunny Canadian summer for granted despite the sweltering heat), which more than adequately reflected her mood over the past two months.

She still hadn’t made up with Gilbert and, although she missed her study partner and former friend dearly, her academics were not suffering one bit. Anne was on track to finish the year with the top mark in English and History and continued to go neck and neck with Gilbert for the top place in French, much to Mr. Phillips’ very obvious displeasure.

Anne did her best to fill the Gilbert-sized hole in her heart by taking on extra projects for the paper and spending even more time with Diana and the other girls than she had before. Anne had long since decided that she was tired of feeling shamed by her peers for not being from the island and had embraced her Irish identity with fervour. Lunchtime conversations at Anne’s table often revolved around trying to teach the girls various phrases in Gaelic, everyone giggling over the discrepancies in spelling and pronunciations—especially whenever Tilly asked Anne to teach her terms that would have gotten her the ruler at her old school. Ever since her own birthday, Josie had been much kinder to Anne, who true to her word had kept the girl’s bare wrist a secret.

With her own birthday approaching, however, Anne faced a conundrum. As her friends all turned sixteen, she had discovered that it was customary to have a large party where they could show off their newly appeared soul marks. Obviously, she would have no need for such an affair—despite Diana’s constant pestering—nor did she have the desire to spend any part of her day as the centre of attention amongst her peers who thought her unwelcome in Avonlea. On the other hand, thinking about how she would have spent her sixteenth if Mrs. Brady was still alive saddened her even more than her falling out with Gilbert had; since their trip to Dublin for her thirteenth, she had been eagerly awaiting their visit to the British Museum and British Library.

After several light-hearted arguments, Anne had managed to convince Diana that having the girls round to Green Gables for afternoon tea would be the perfect celebration for her since an elaborate party at the Barry’s would only highlight her the differences that often left her the subject of crude remarks.

As her birthday approached, Anne also felt herself growing anxious over the treasure box that had been sitting atop her dresser since she first arrived at Green Gables. Whenever she had asked Mrs. Brady about her parents, the woman would regale her with stories of her mother and aunt as children, but Bertha and Walter had only lived next door to her for such a short time that she was unable to tell Anne hardly anything about their adult lives, especially her father. All Anne knew was that they were both schoolteachers, they adored their infant daughter, and there was a letter from them waiting for the eve of her sixteenth birthday. Anne had absolutely no idea what was in the letter—or the treasure box it sat in for that matter—but she was both excited and inexplicably nervous to find out.

Whenever Anne tried to ask Marilla about her parents, the woman would turn even quieter than usual. The only things Anne had been able to learn from her aunt were that she had never met Walter, the two sisters had been very close as children, and that Anne was the spitting image of her mother apart from her eyes; Anne supposed that meant that those came from her father, but it was something that she may never know for sure. Regardless, she was hopeful that the letter left to her would contain some sort of information that she hadn’t received from Marilla or Mrs. Brady.

* * *

The day before Anne’s birthday was just like any other, but something felt different. Just like every Friday before it, Anne spent the day at school. The only difference was that the lunch conversation focused on the girls’ excitement over Anne’s upcoming birthday tea instead of their usual probing questions about Ireland (which Anne was all too eager to answer once she realised that she wouldn’t be shunned for her differences). She continued to ignore Gilbert beside her in English and stopped Ruby from nearly singeing off her eyebrows in their chemistry lab before the day was out.

Just like any other afternoon, Anne walked home from school with Diana, the March sun providing a welcome warmth that had been a rarity throughout the winter. If Diana sensed Anne’s nervous anxiety, she didn’t say anything, choosing to let Anne chatter animatedly about how excited she was that the snow was finally melting. Aware of the typical festivities that came with a sixteenth birthday on the island, Marilla had requested a small celebratory dinner that evening—just the residents of Green Gables—for which Anne was appreciative. As talkative and outgoing as she typically was, her nerves had her feeling a bit reclusive. A quiet Friday night at home with her aunt and uncle would be a welcome change of pace; it would also allow her privacy to digest whatever was in that treasure box on her dresser.

When Anne returned home, she was hit with an aroma that had been absent for far too long. It was evident that Marilla had gone to great lengths that afternoon to prepare one of Anne’s favourite meals, steak and ale pie with buttery mash.

Dinner, as usual in the Cuthbert household, was a quiet affair. Although it wasn’t yet her actual birthday, once the table was cleared, Marilla brought out a simple, yet elegant cake. Anne was pleasantly surprised when her aunt and uncle insisted on singing “Happy Birthday” in a manner far more whimsical than she knew either of them to be. She was touched when they presented her with a few wrapped gifts as well; a pair of practical winter boots—probably Marilla’s idea—and a certificate to a bookshop in Charlottetown—likely Matthew’s doing.

The three sat around the table, cake long since finished, as Anne animatedly chattered on about the books she was going to buy with her certificate and how excited she was to experience her first _real_ winter. Marilla and Matthew were delighted that they had managed to give their niece a celebration that she truly seemed to enjoy despite the difficulties she may face waking up with no soul mark on her sixteenth birthday unlike the vast majority of her peers in Avonlea. They sat around the table and enjoyed their time together until Matthew could no longer stifle his yawns and declared that he was off to bed. Marilla agreed that it was getting late and began clearing the table of cake plates. Anne stood to help her, but Marilla waved her off.

“I think I can manage on my own just this once,” she told her niece. “It was your birthday celebration after all. Besides, you’ve got an important letter waiting for you upstairs if I recall.” Marilla gave Anne a knowing look.

The letter! Though it had stayed at the back of her mind over the past few weeks, Anne had nearly forgotten. “Oh right! I’ll be up in my room if you need me.” She stepped toward her aunt and placed a swift kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for the birthday meal. It was lovely,” she told her before bouncing up the stairs.

As soon as she crossed the threshold to her bedroom, Anne could feel her world shift. She had been anticipating reading the letter left by her parents since Mrs. Brady had told her about it nearly ten years prior when she came home from school full of questions about her family. They were learning about family trees at school and Anne had been troubled by the fact that she knew so little about them. Mrs. Brady had lived next door to the McKeowns from the time Bertha was about three-years-old, so she was able to tell her about her mother, aunt, and grandparents but she knew nothing about the Shirley side. Finally, after waiting practically her entire lifetime, Anne was finally given the opportunity to hear from her parents that she had been too young to remember. As she sat at her desk ready to open the envelope, her hands began to shake with nerves. However, that didn’t stop her from gently tearing the envelope and beginning to read.

_10 th June 1980_

_My Darling Girl,_

_I’m writing this letter as we cross the Irish Sea from Cairnryan to Belfast. When your father and I found out that we were expecting you, we decided that you would be raised in Edinburgh, much safer than anywhere in my beloved Ireland could be for us at the moment. We never planned on bringing a child into a civil war, but your gran has been so poorly, and we couldn’t very well leave her on her own, so here we are. It is my greatest hope that this letter never has to fall into your possession, but I’ve seen the violence in the news and know that there is a very real chance that I may not be around to see you grow up._

_Your da and I were so excited when we found out we were expecting you, our wonderful Anne-girl, but we never could have imagined how much joy you would bring into our lives. You are so loved and watching you grow and discover your little world these past few months has been the greatest gift. As I write this, you’re seated in your father’s lap, looking out the window to the sea. Never lose your sense of wonder, dear girl._

_You may wonder why I’ve chosen such a specific time for you to receive this; the eve of your sixteenth birthday. Perhaps it would make more sense to receive such a letter on the big day itself, or even your eighteenth. I have good reason for choosing this specific date and as you read on, I’m sure you’ll come to understand it._

_I met your father in our first year of university. We were both new to Edinburgh and were both studying to be teachers; myself, secondary English Literature and your father Maths. By some stroke of fate, we were paired together for a group project in our first term and our friends all claim that we’ve been inseparable ever since. If you haven’t guessed by now (assuming no one’s told you), you are half Scottish, my love. Your Da is from Great Cumbrae a wee (despite its name) island a little ways west of Glasgow. The people of the island have a very small, tight-knit community. Most people who are born there never leave, which brings me to my reason for selecting the eve of your sixteenth for you to receive this letter._

_The folk of Great Cumbrae have many legends and traditions tied to their island. How I hope your da is around to tell you tales of them—and I of the Fenian Cycle—as you grow. In the event that you must grow up unfamiliar with your heritage, I feel it is my duty to inform you so that you are prepared should their biggest legend hold true for you. Dating back to the time of St. Mirin, Cumbreans have recorded the appearance of soulmate marks. On their sixteenth and eighteenth birthdays respectively, many girls and boys have discovered markings on their inner wrist identical to that of their perfect match. I assume you’re now realising why I’ve selected the eve of your sixteenth, you clever girl._

_Not everyone from the island gets a mark, but there is a chance that you will, and your father and I have agreed that we want you to be prepared for it. If you awake tomorrow and there is a mark on your arm, we want you to know that your perfect match is out there and even if you awake to no mark at all, I know you will find someday find the person with whom you belong._

_Cumbraean lore suggests that the legend is tied to the island. In other words, those who receive a mark are destined to be with another islander and they will live out their days living a peaceful life there. They believe that those who do not receive a mark are not to be shamed, for they are meant to find their great love elsewhere. Your father never received his soulmate mark, but I cannot imagine my life without him—or without you for that matter, my dear. No matter what happens tomorrow, do not be afraid, my Anne, for I know that you will someday find the greatest love of your life. You are but three months old and already showing such an adventurous personality!_

_How I hope I get to see that little personality develop as you grow. I can’t wait to introduce you the world of fairy tales and classic literature when you’re a bit older. I can’t wait to see the world through your eyes and to take you on wee adventures. I so desperately want to show you the beauty of the Scottish Highlands and take you to see the little flat in Edinburgh that was your first home._

_Most of all, I hope you never have to read this letter for it means that you have been without me for some time. Every child deserves to know their mam and da. If our time has been cut short, I pray that you are old enough to remember me, but even if you aren’t, know that I will always be with you in spirit. I love you so very, very much, my beautiful Anne-girl. Happy birthday._

_With love,  
_ _Your Mam (and Da)_

_P.S. It appears that the waves have lulled you to sleep. How I wish I hadn’t packed away the camera, so I could document how peaceful you look tucked up against your da’s shoulder. Sometimes I wish you could stay this little forever and this is certainly one of them!_

There was another postscript inked beneath in a slightly different shade of ink, suggesting that it had been added at a later date.

_P.P.S. I wanted to make sure that you had something meaningful of mine in the event that I couldn’t be there to give them to you myself. Your gran gave me that Claddagh ring when I left for uni and the necklace is the first gift your father ever gave to me. Your da and I agreed that we want you to have it as a reminder of how much we both love you._

Anne set the letter down gently on her desk, processing what she had just read. Her parents had loved her. Mrs. Brady had reminded her constantly as she was growing up, but it felt so much different when the words came directly from her mother herself. Anne hadn’t realised that she’d started crying until a falling tear hit the corner of the page. _Her parents loved her_ , so very much by the look of things. Simultaneously, she was filled with an array of emotions; joy over her parents’ love and the sentimental gifts they had left her, sorrow that they couldn’t be with her anymore, and confusion over the whole soul mark situation.

If she awoke to a mark on her wrist, did that mean she had a soulmate on Great Cumbrae? Could she have a soulmate on Prince Edward Island? Did she even want one? She had spent the past ten months dodging whispers that she wouldn’t get a soul mark and didn’t belong on Prince Edward Island. Anne had come to accept the fact that she didn’t have a soulmate like the rest of her friends and had been trying her best not to care—even though the idea of a certain curly-haired boy finding his soulmate nearly broke her heart, not that Anne would ever admit it. Even if she awoke to a mark on her wrist the next morning, it wouldn’t match his; no matter how attracted she was to Gilbert, he was far too good for her. After all, she had been horrible to him time after time and he had continued to give her second chances. He deserved someone equally as kind. Besides, in a few months, he would be off to university where he would probably meet some nice girl from the other end of the island who bore the same mark on her wrist as him.

And what if she woke up to nothing on her wrist, as she had been anticipating since Marilla had told her about soul marks in the first place? Anne supposed that nothing would change, but would she be disappointed? It certainly was lucky that her birthday happened to fall on a Saturday this year; if nothing appeared, at least she wouldn’t have to deal with the pitying looks of her classmates.

Speaking of school, if a mark did appear, would anyone even believe her? How would she prove that it was real? Did she even care? _No,_ Anne told herself. After months of asserting that she was proud of her heritage, Anne couldn’t care less what the folks of Avonlea had to say about her. Stifling a yawn, Anne carefully folded the letter and returned it to the small box on her dresser for safe keeping. The heightened emotions invoked by the letter and the millions of thoughts running through her mind over its contents had exhausted Anne more than she realised.

As she laid in bed, the girl stared at the inside of her pale, bare wrists, wondering if they would look the same come morning until she slowly drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s intentionally very little dialogue in this chapter, but it’s very plot-heavy. When I first conceptualised this story, there were a few key plot points that I had in mind. Anne finding out that soul marks weren’t restricted to PEI would definitely create a lot of internal conflict, especially since she had been someone of an outcast since her arrival because there was no way that she would ever receive a mark of her own. This was one of the first chapters I wrote and have spent much of this story building up to it. Thanks again for reading! I hope to get the next bit up soon!


	14. Chapter 13

Anne opened her eyes slowly as light filtered in through her bedroom window. As she came into consciousness, everything she had learned the previous night flooded her memory and she sat up with a start. Had she imagined the contents of her mother’s letter? Did she subconsciously long for a soul mark so much that she had created the whole thing in her head?

There was only one way to find out. Anne’s heart was racing, but she was too nervous to check her wrists. Her father never got his mark, so the likelihood of Anne having one couldn’t be too great. Besides, her body felt no different than it had the day before. Surely she would feel _something_ if a mark had appeared overnight; a burning or stinging sensation would make perfect sense.

Sighing, Anne knew that there was only one way to find out if she had a soulmate. Turning both wrists over, she released an audible gasp. Save for a smattering of freckles, her left wrist was bare. Her right wrist, on the other hand, contained a vaguely familiar image. A sturdy tree like the ones she often read beneath was emblazoned on her previously empty wrist. It’s roots were intertwined in an intricate pattern which Anne instantly recognised as a Celtic knot.

Anne traced the pattern several times, still in shock at all that she had discovered in the past twelve hours. Only a knock at her door pulled Anne from her thoughts.

“Happy birthday, Anne dear,” said Marilla as she opened the door and poked her head in. “Wh-what’s going on?” she asked as she noticed Anne still staring at her wrist.

“Oh Aunt Marilla, it appears I have a soul mark after all,” said Anne, her voice in a dreamy trance-like state. “And I’m half-Scottish, apparently.”

Marilla stepped the rest of the way into Anne’s room. “Whatever do you mean, child?” she asked in regard to the mark. “If you’re half-Irish and half-Scottish—which I could have told you, but presumed you were already aware—how do you have a mark?”

Anne rehashed the finer details of the contents of her parents’ letter and offered to let Marilla read for herself in case she didn’t believe Anne. “They gave me a bit of a birthday present as well,” she added, showing Marilla the jewellery Bertha had bestowed upon her only daughter. “I’ve always wanted a Claddagh of my own, Aunt Marilla. The whole idea behind them is just so romantic, you know?"

Marilla shook her head, smiling. As no-nonsense as she tended to be, the woman supposed she could ease up a bit for the sake of her niece’s birthday. “That they are,” she agreed. “Do you know how it’s meant to be worn?”

Anne nodded, slipping the ring onto her finger. She couldn’t believe how well it fit. “I should wear it on my right ring finger with the point of the heart toward my fingertip.”

“Very well.”

“Mam also left me a necklace, the first thing Da ever gave her. Could you help me put it on?”

Anne produced a delicate chain with a small silver thistle pendant hanging from it which Marilla carefully clasped around her neck. Although not normally sentimental, the woman was doing her best not to tear up. Anne’s resemblance to Bertha was growing by the day. The last time she had seen her sister, Bertha was barely older than Anne.

“There,” she told Anne once the necklace was secured. “Have I ever told you how much you look like your mam?”

Anne’s eyes lit up. “Really!?”

“More and more each day. Now hurry up and get dressed so we can have a nice breakfast before your friends arrive.” With that, she stood and exited Anne’s room, leaving the girl free to study her mark once more.

* * *

Throughout the morning, Anne kept sneaking subtle looks at her wrist. Her newfound mark was familiar, yet her inability to remember where she had seen it was both frustrating and distracting her from helping Marilla prepare the dining room for her friends’ arrival. Anne couldn’t help but wonder if she had seen her mark on someone else before or if her mind was playing tricks. Maybe she had seen a similar mark on someone’s wrist in passing. As informative as Bertha’s letter had been, Anne’s mother did not mention if having a mark meant that Anne’s soulmate could only be found on a remote Scottish island or if the magic behind such marks transcended cultural and national boundaries.

Anne was also at a loss on how to inform her friends. She knew without a doubt that Diana would believe her, but would the others? And poor Josie. In the weeks following Josie’s birthday, the two girls had been getting on well. Anne was beginning to see potential in her as a kindred spirit and genuinely enjoyed her company since the girl had stopped throwing callous comments in her direction. What would Josie think of all this? Would sharing her news with the girls dismantle any semblance of friendship the two had developed in recent weeks? Not wanting to risk anything, Anne decided that she would keep the contents of her letter as well as the markings on her wrist a secret until she had time to wrap her own mind around everything.

As soon as the clock struck noon, the girls began filtering in. Josie was the first to arrive and wished Anne a happy birthday, hugging her and whispering into her ear, “One step closer to becoming the bride of adventure.” In return, Anne shot her a nervous smile. What would the girl think if she knew the truth? Would she still want to be the friend that she had begun to prove she could be after she found out that unlike her, Anne did have a mark? Anne’s decision to keep her news a secret was affirmed by this.

The rest of the girls began filtering in and Anne soon found herself at the head of the Cuthbert’s dining room table, surrounded by her closest friends in Avonlea and a spread of scones and sandwiches prepared by Marilla.

For the most part, the conversation had been light-hearted, but Anne knew better than to expect things to stay that way. Sure enough, Ruby asked between sips of tea, “What is it like to be sixteen and not have a soul mark.”

The other girls stared wide-eyed at the naïve blonde. Tilly nearly choked on her bite of scone. “Ruby! You can’t just ask people things like that!” Jane gasped.

Anne chuckled. _If only they knew._ “It’s quite alright, Jane. Ruby, I wouldn’t know the difference.” She wasn’t exactly lying. As far as Anne knew, she had a soul mark the entire time that she had been sixteen, so she wouldn’t know what it was like to be sixteen without one.

Thankfully, Ruby seemed to accept that answer and none of the other girls appeared to question it either, though Diana shot Anne a look as if to say _we’ll speak later_ before changing the subject

“Did you get that necklace for your birthday, Anne? It’s stunning,” the brunette complemented her friend.

“Thanks, Di. It was my mother’s.” She launched into the story behind the jewellery and how it had been passed down to her via letter. However, Anne made sure to omit the finer details, instead choosing to explain the legend behind Claddagh rings; having shown hers off, careful to keep her sleeve down over her wrist.

Before Anne knew it, Marilla was carrying an intricately decorated chocolate cake, made from scratch by Diana and topped with sixteen candles.

* * *

As soon as the other girls had gone home, Anne wasted no time in dragging Diana up to her bedroom. Diana, both curious and worried, followed her friend up the stairs.

“Anne, is everything alright? What’s going on?” She knew than Anne had a flare for the dramatic, but she was usually quite forthcoming. While she appeared to be enjoying herself during tea, something about how Anne had answered Ruby’s questions was a bit off.

“I’m fine, brilliant actually.”

Diana raised a brow. “Really? You seemed a bit distracted earlier. I know you’re still upset that you haven’t made up with Gilbert this time, but I don’t think that’s what it is.”

A silent pause followed as Anne thought about the best way to broach the subject. “Oh, Di, you have nothing to be worried about. I’ve just gotten some news that I’m still digesting. That’s actually why I brought you up here after everyone else left.” She slid the right sleeve of her jumper up. “As it happens, I did get a soul mark and before you bombard me with questions, I think you should read this.” Anne stood up from her bed to retrieve the letter, which had been delicately folded and placed back in the box it came in.

Anne watched Diana read, eager to see her reaction and hear her thoughts on everything that she had discovered about herself in the past day. By the expression on Diana’s face, Anne could tell exactly when she reached the bit about soul marks.

When Diana was finally finished with the letter—after what seemed like an eternity to Anne—she handed it back. “Wow.”

“I know,” Anne agreed. “I was so surprised last night and terrified to check my wrist this morning.”

Diana nodded, still trying to comprehend everything herself. As much as she loved her dear friend, she would not want to be in her shoes in this instance, even though the contents of Mrs. Shirley’s letter to Anne were exciting. “I would have been too. This is so exciting though, Anne!”

Anne grinned and told her all about waking that morning to discover that she was not unlike most of the girls on the island. Diana, thoughtful as ever, listened intently until she was fully caught up. “So what does this mean? Do you reckon your soulmate lives in Scotland?”

“I dunno.” Anne shook her head, the same questions having been looped on repeat through her mind since she had first read the letter. “Josie mentioned that there’s rumours of soul marks on Vancouver Island, too. Maybe they’re all linked together.” She slid her sleeve up once again so Diana could get a better look at her mark. “Maybe it’s deja-vu or wishful thinking, but something about my mark is familiar. I could swear I’ve seen it somewhere quite recently, but haven’t the foggiest.”

Diana lightly traced the intricate lines with her delicate fingers. “I hope this means you might find your soulmate somewhere nearby. I’d miss you terribly if you had to move back across the ocean.”

Anne smiled at her friend. “Me too.”

“How do you feel about this?” Diana was pleased that her dear friend seemed relatively happy with her newfound discovery, but Diana was certain that she would have been a nervous wreck if their roles were reversed.

Anne thought for a moment, unsure—for the first (and only) time in her life—how to describe exactly how she was feeling. “Both elated and devastated simultaneously if that makes sense.” By the confused expression on Diana’s face, Anne decided to continue. “I’ve spent my entire life hearing from others about how much my parents loved me, but to have physical proof by their hands is indescribable. My mam’s jewellery is also a lovely physical reminder that I know I’ll treasure forever. And to discover something about myself that could link me to this island when so many people have been quick to remind me that I don’t belong is unbelievably incredible.”

Diana was even more confused by this. Anne had listed off so many positives. “Your whole situation right now sounds so magical—as if it’s straight out of a fantasy novel. How could you also be sad when so many great things have come to you?”

“Receiving a letter written in my mother’s hand was incredible, but a handwritten note and some jewellery—though stunning—doesn’t bring my parents back. I’m so very sad that I never got the chance to know them. And it reminded me of how lucky I was that Mrs. Brady cared for me as she did, which reminded me of how much I miss her.” Anne was blinking back tears. Quick to console her friend, Diana pulled the redhead into a tight hug, which Anne returned with equal fervour.

“I’m so sorry, Anne.” Diana couldn’t imagine what her best friend was going through. “But I’m so very glad that you ended up here in Avonlea.”

Anne nodded, sniffling. “Me too. I just wish I could have arrived here without losing people along the way. Now, it’s still my birthday. I don’t want to feel sad anymore and I’m determined to figure out what my mark means. Care to help me?”

Diana flashed Anne a grin, nodding. “Absolutely.” And so the two girls spent the remainder of the afternoon giggling and speculating.

* * *

_9 th March 1996  
  
_

_Dear Gilbert,_

_Today was my birthday. I’m officially sixteen. For years, I looked forward to this day. Mrs. Brady had promised me a trip to the British Museum and the British Library. It’s no secret that I love old books and literature. To see Shakespeare’s first folio and one of the Gutenberg Bibles would have been an absolute dream and for me, it will remain that; just a dream for now. The library also displays one of the surviving copies of the Magna Carta and Vesalius’ book on human anatomy along with so many other scientific texts. I think you would quite enjoy those. Although I am disappointed that my trip to London has yet to come to fruition, I’m more saddened by the lack of Mrs. Brady’s presence. Prior to last May, she was the only semblance of family that I knew and while Aunt Marilla, Uncle Matthew, and the girls did a splendid job in making me feel loved and celebrated, I can’t help but wish she were still here. Though Aunt Marilla is far more reserved, I think they would have gotten on well…although I suppose I never would have left Ireland if not for her untimely death. Is it wrong of me to feel so thankful for all that I have found in Avonlea despite the circumstances under which I arrived?_

_Anyways, on a happier note, the girls threw me a lovely celebration this afternoon. Diana (with Aunt Marilla’s help, of course) arranged a magnificent afternoon tea at Green Gables. Auntie even got out her finest china for the occasion! We had the most delicious selection of finger sandwiches and scones, topped off with a beautiful cake that Diana had decorated herself. After Aunt Marilla warned me that people might treat me as an outcast because my ancestry is not rooted to the island, I was worried that I mightn’t find any real friends here at all, yet here I am surrounded by the best sort. Though I wish I could be in your presence again as well._

_Oh, and turns out I have a soul mark. I probably should mention that one. I bet you’re wondering how that could be and, no, I have no ancestral ties to Canada or Prince Edward Island. As it happens, my dad is from one of the Scottish isles and they, too, have a history of soul marks. I’m half Scottish and I was born in Edinburgh (meanwhile, I spent my whole life thinking I was fully Irish—how mental is that?). My parents knew that returning to Belfast in the midst of a conflict was unsafe, but they had their reasons, so they wrote a letter which explained everything in case they weren’t around to tell me themselves._

_I am overjoyed to say that I now have written proof that my parents loved me. Hearing it from someone else has far less meaning than the tangibility of their letter, or of the jewellery Mam left to me. I still yearn to learn more and cannot wait for the day when I finally get to see Scotland with my own eyes. I will always be inherently Irish, but now feel as if I may see myself as a bit Scottish someday, too._

_So far, Diana is the only person aside from Marilla who knows that I have a mark. I don’t know if or when I should tell the others for fear of how they may react—especially the poor girl who received no mark at all. While I enjoyed our tea, I wanted to keep studying the mark on my wrist. It was torturous, trying not to raise my sleeve to take a glance but I couldn’t risk anyone discovering my news as I’m still digesting it myself. Diana stayed later than the others, so I was able to show her the letter and my mark. She thinks it’s wonderful, but has the same reservations that I do when it comes to telling the others. She’s also offered to help me try and find more information (such as if my soulmate is waiting for me on the island of Great Cumbrae). I still don’t know how I feel about all of this. As you know, I’ve always thought myself to be the bride of adventure. Surely any soulmate of mine would understand that I long to see the world and experience as much of its beauty as I can, but how will I know for sure until I meet him?_

_As I write this letter, I can’t help but keep pausing to check that my mark is still there. I wonder if there is any meaning behind its design. How I wish we were still friends so I could show you since I know you would be able to sort things out. It’s a brilliant tree—much like the one we used to study beneath back when the weather was more agreeable—and its roots form the most captivating Celtic knot. It looks all too familiar to me and the fact that I can’t quite place my finger on where I’ve seen it before is driving me mad. Wait…  
_

Anne dropped her pen to her desk with a gasp, suddenly recalling where she had seen that mark before. _I have to speak to Gilbert._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters in four days. Who am I? I don't know if I'm too pleased at how the birthday tea turned out but I'm happy with the rest of it.
> 
> I've got a busy week ahead and the next bit is going to be tricky to write, so I make no promises of another swift update, but who honestly knows when inspiration will strike?


	15. Chapter 14

Anne took the stairs two at a time, nearly tumbling just before she reached the bottom. The thunderous pounding made by her footsteps was loud enough to disturb Matthew from his slumber in the sitting room and for Marilla to set her knitting aside for a moment.

“Heavens, Anne! Whatever are you doing?” Marilla asked as Anne rushed to lace up her boots.

Anne’s mind was running a mile a minute as she hastily did up the front of her coat. The only words Marilla could understand coming from her niece’s mouth were “tell,” “Gilbert,” and “now.” The older woman shook her head. After ten months of having Anne under her roof, she was well aware of the teen’s dramatics.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” Marilla told Anne firmly.

“But Aun—” Anne gasped, her heart sinking. She _had_ to tell Gilbert tonight.

“No buts, Anne. It’s late. I can’t have you showing up at the Blythes at this hour unannounced.” By the look on Anne’s face, she could tell that whatever Anne needed to say to Gilbert was important, but she had neither seen nor heard of the boy since December. If Anne had decided to reconcile her friendship, surely ten hours would make no difference. “You can go see him tomorrow,” she reasoned.

Anne huffed, knowing that arguing with Marilla at this point was of no use and removed her coat with excessive force. She pulled her boots from her feet and tossed them loudly to the ground before storming back up the stairs. “This is the worst birthday ever!” she shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks, before slamming her bedroom door.

Anne knew that she was overreacting a bit and felt slightly sorry for how she had treated the woman who had done her best to make Anne’s first birthday in her new home an enjoyable one. But now that she knew where she had seen her mark before, all Anne wanted to do was run to the Blythe orchard and apologise to Gilbert. She still felt betrayed that he kept his mark a secret from her, but wanted nothing more than to talk to him now.

She spent the entire evening tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable sleeping position. It didn’t help that her brain refused to shut off as she kept playing out possible scenarios for when she would be able to go over to Gilbert’s the next morning. Would he slam the door in her face? It was unlike him, but Anne might have pressed her luck one too many times. Would he hear her out, or refuse to see her at all? Anne wouldn’t blame him one bit. Worse yet, Anne thought, she had no idea what she would say to him if he did allow her to speak. Would he even believe her? As far as the people of Prince Edward Island were aware, they were the only people in the world to have soul marks and Gilbert knew better than most anyone that Anne was definitely not from the island.

By the time the sun rose, Anne felt like she had hardly gotten any sleep. Exhausted and nervous, she laid in bed for what felt like an eternity until she heard Marilla puttering around in the kitchen. As the smell of fresh bacon wafted into her bedroom, Anne dressed quickly, wanting to waste no time in running over to the Blythes’. In no time, she was seated at the kitchen table in a dark pair of jeans and a pale yellow jumper that Mrs. Brady had knit herself.

“Slow down, Anne,” Marilla admonished. “The only place you’ll be going if you choke is to hospital and we can’t have that.” She shook her head, not sure what to do with this child. Matthew, meanwhile, chuckled, causing Marilla to gently smack the back of his head. He merely winked at Anne, who had just finished downing her cup of tea as if she had been deprived of water for weeks.

“I’m finished, Aunt Marilla.” Anne stood and pushed her chair in, grabbing her plate and mug to carry into the kitchen. “Can I go now?”

“After you’ve washed our breakfast dishes,” Marilla called from the table, chuckling when she heard an audible groan from the kitchen.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of scrubbing bacon grease off the frying pan, Anne was finished and was soon on her way.

Trudging through the snow at a much slower pace than she would have gone the night before, Anne pondered how she would break her news to Gilbert. Surely, the most effective way to convey what she wanted to say would be to reveal her mark to him, but what if he didn’t believe her? Would he think she was some pathetic fool so desperate to keep his attention that she would replicate his mark on her own wrist? Surely he knew her better than that, but again, she thought that she had known him better than to hide his own mark from her.

She was still contemplating what she was going to say when she reached the Blythes’ front porch. _Here goes nothing,_ she thought, rasping her knuckles firmly against the large oak door. In the moments it took for someone to approach the door from the other side, Anne’s heart was pounding. Never had she felt so nervous to see _anyone,_ but Gilbert wasn’t just anyone, was he?

As it happened, Anne’s nerves were all for naught. Elise answered the door smiling when she saw who had come to call. She had grown quite fond of the redhead and had missed her lively presence. Elise knew that something had happened, but Gilbert had refused to say what, so she supposed that the two had quarrelled, but was unaware of the extent. However, she did notice that her son had been less cheerful since he had returned from Diana Barry’s in the wee hours of the morning on New Year’s Day.

“Anne, what a surprise! We sure have missed you around here.”

“Hello, Mrs. Blythe. Likewise, though I’m afraid that’s my fault. Is Gilbert home? I desperately need to speak with him.”

Elise frowned, shaking her head. “I’m afraid not, Anne. He and John went to an open day at Dalhousie in Halifax with John and they won’t be back until late. Would you like me to tell him that you stopped by?”

Anne couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her as her shoulders drooped in disappointment. Shaking her head, Anne replied “It’s nothing important. I can just talk to him at school tomorrow morning.”

“If you’re sure. In the meantime, you’re welcome to join me for a cup of tea if you’d like.”

“No thank you, Mrs. Blythe. I’m quite busy today,” she lied, trying her best to hide her disappointment. “Have a ton of homework to finish up,” she added just in case the woman didn’t believe her. It wasn’t that Anne didn’t enjoy Gilbert’s mother’s company. Rather, she didn’t trust herself not to spill and she couldn’t risk Gilbert finding out about her mark from someone else.

“Another time then. It’s been too quiet around here lately.”

“Definitely,” Anne agreed. “Have a lovely day.”

The two women said their goodbyes and Anne trudged off in the direction of the Barry’s. She may have to wait to see Gilbert, but it was high time that she told Diana everything.

* * *

The wind howled at Anne’s back as she made the familiar trek toward her bosom friend’s home, a chilling reminder of how much her world had changed in the past year. By now, the trees in Ireland would be beginning to bud and if she were there, Anne would likely be getting lost in a book beneath their sturdy branches on a rare sunny day. The air would still be crisp, but not cold enough to bite at her skin.

Thankfully, she noted upon approaching the Barrys’ front path, both cars were in the driveway, so it appeared that Diana was indeed at home. Anne was grateful that the odds of her being turned away were slim. After the fuss she’d made at Green Gables, Anne was too proud to return home so soon, but more importantly, she needed to fulfil a promise she had made to Diana months ago.

She was just about to ring the bell when the door cracked open by a six-year-old girl with honey brown curls and big blue eyes who looked her up and down before decidedly letting Anne—who could hear muffled arguing—inside. “Diana’s upstairs in her room, crying,” Minnie May Barry informed Anne matter-of-factly. “She had an argument with Mother and Father. I just want to go outside and make snow angels, but if I ask them while they’re angry, the answer’s going to be ‘no’ again.”

Anne resisted the urge to chuckle at the child’s bluntness and instead chose to focus on the part where her best friend was upset. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to tell her about what transpired between herself and Gilbert on New Year’s Eve. “Is it alright if I go up?”

Minnie May nodded. “Tell Diana she owes me an extra piano lesson this week. Mother wouldn’t be happy if she knew you were here.” Anne nodded and quickly headed up to Diana’s bedroom.

The girl in question was lying face down on her bed, shaking as if she were crying. Anne supposed that she probably was and moved to sit on the edge of her bed. Gently rubbing her back, Anne asked, “Do you want to talk about it?” causing Diana to look up at her and nod before rolling over into a sitting position.

“Th-they w-want to send me a-away next y-year.”

Anne’s eyes widened. Next year? But Diana still had two more years of schooling before university. And Anne would miss her terribly. She had so many questions, but didn’t want to overwhelm her clearly distraught friend.

“Where? Why?”

“T-t-toronto. One of father’s business partners has a son a few years older a-and th-they want us to m-marry when I turn eighteen.” Diana sobbed.

Anne tried to hide her shock from her face. Not only did the whole thing sound archaic, but what about Diana’s soul mark? How could her parents be so cruel?

As if she was reading Anne’s mind, Diana added, “They’re afraid that when I get my mark, I’ll turn out like Aunt Jo.”

Okay, now Anne was confused. She had no idea who this aunt was. And Diana was such a kind, genuine girl; how could she turn into something worth sending away? How could any parent send their child away willingly? Anne wrapped a comforting arm around her friend.

“You’re such a wonderful person, Di. If you’re on a path to turn out like this aunt, she must be someone really special.”

“That’s the thing; I’m not like her.”

“What is she like then?” Anne was curious.

“I’m not sure entirely. Minnie May and I have never met her. All I know is that she’s old and rich and that her soulmate was a woman.” _That must be it,_ Anne thought, though she couldn’t comprehend why the gender of someone’s soul mark should be reason for scrutiny. It’s not as if they chose to be that way, and if they weren’t doing any harm to others, what was the problem?

“Do you think your soulmate is a girl, Di?”

“Not at all,” Diana affirmed. “And I tried telling them that, but they don’t want to take the risk. Apparently, Aunt Jo caused quite a scandal when Father was a baby; blindsided everyone. My grandparents wouldn’t let him find his soulmate just in case it was a man, lest he bring more embarrassment to the family. He and mother aren’t soulmates.”

“Oh, Di, nobody should care about who your soulmate is except for you,” Anne told her sympathetically. And if you’re certain it isn’t a girl, why are they so eager to send you? I’m so angry for you.”

“I wish I knew. It doesn’t matter what they say though; I’m not going.” Diana was indignant. “I’ll run away before I marry someone I didn’t choose for myself.”

Anne nodded. Diana’s situation sounded like quite the tragical romance and would make a great story someday. If only it didn’t mean that Anne’s best friend on the island would probably have to leave her behind.

“Wherever will you go?”

“No idea. Maybe I’ll join you in being brides of adventure until I find my actual soulmate for myself.”

Anne chuckled, glad to see that Diana was calming down a bit. “Maybe start by visiting your aunt, first. Do you know where she lives?”

Diana nodded. “Charlottetown, according to the phone book. Father wouldn’t tell me, so I looked her up.”

“That’s so close! You should visit her. I’ll go with you for support if you’d like.”

“Maybe.” Diana wiped the lingering tears from her cheeks.

The two sat in silence, side-by-side on Diana’s bed, content to just wallow in misery together. After a while, Anne broke the silence with a chuckle and Diana cast her a questioning glance, prompting Anne to explain herself.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help thinking what a mess this whole soulmate business has caused us both. We certainly are quite the pair.”

Diana looked at Anne quizzically. “Whatever do you mean?”

Anne blushed, a deep crimson creeping up her neck and spreading across her cheeks. After learning about Diana’s current woes, she had decided to wait to tell her what was going on until things in Diana’s life calmed down a bit. Naturally, Anne’s habit of speaking before she thought caught up with her yet again.

“I’m ready to tell you about what happened at your New Year’s party,” she told Diana honestly. “But it’s not important, really. I can tell you when you’re feeling a bit better.”

Diana smiled. She had nearly forgotten that she had made Anne promise to tell her about her falling out with Gilbert once she was ready. “Tell me, please! I need something to distract me right now and this is perfect!”

And so Anne detailed everything from her feelings about the boy to how he tried to kiss her at midnight, how he had hidden the fact that he had gotten his mark to the moment when he told her that his mark didn’t matter. Diana gasped at the right moments and cursed Gilbert Blythe as soon as Anne told her that he tried to downplay the significance of his mark in favour of kissing her. When she reached the end of her story, Diana said, “Good for you, rejecting him like that. I would be furious if I found out my soulmate pulled that crap on another girl.”

Anne nodded in agreement. “Only problem is that I realised last night why my mark looks so familiar.”

It didn’t take long for Diana to connect the dots and instantly, her eyes doubled in size. “No!” Anne merely nodded in confirmation. “You have to tell him, Anne!”

“I tried to. Only Aunt Marilla wouldn’t let me go last night, so I went to tell him this morning, only his mam told me that he’s at a university open day in Halifax.”

“Tell him first thing tomorrow then.”

“Don’t worry, I plan to. Only what if he doesn’t believe me?”

“If he doesn’t believe you, I’ll make sure he does,” Diana said with such force that both she and Anne couldn’t help bursting into laughter.

Anne knew one thing was certain; regardless of what happened with her soulmate, she would always have Diana Barry by her side.

* * *

It was early Monday morning and Anne’s day was already not going to plan. She had slept through her alarm clock (which she had set to go off thirty minutes earlier than usual), causing her to choose between a quick shower and breakfast. After one look in the mirror, Anne decided that she would spend her morning battling an empty stomach lest she risk missing Gilbert before school started.

She did manage to arrive to Avonlea High early and decided to collect her things from her locker before seeking out Gilbert. It was then that she discovered that her Geometry textbook—as well as her completed homework assignment—was still sitting on her desk at home. Frazzled, she headed toward the Grade 12 lockers with ten minutes to spare before the bell rang. Anne was fully prepared to wait at Gilbert’s locker until he arrived; she was not expecting him to already be there. She was not expecting to see Gilbert Blythe standing at his locker, chatting with a beautiful, tall girl with curly blonde hair and the most magnificent blue eyes. She did not expect to see the girl say something that would cause Gilbert Blythe to laugh. She did not expect to feel her heart shatter into more pieces than it already had on New Year’s Day.

Anne spent the morning in a near catatonic state that even Diana couldn’t manage to put to rights. Anne expected to feel angry at Gilbert. She _should_ be furious, especially since she was near certain he bore her soul mark. Instead, she felt numb. The usually bubbly, chatty girl had been reduced to a silent, expressionless nothing.

Thankfully Diana was intuitive and level-headed enough to know that it would do no good to try and resolve whatever had happened that morning until they were finished with classes. So, like the stellar friend that she was, Diana Barry took two sets of notes in Geometry and made sure to nudge Anne whenever it appeared that Mr. Phillips might be catching on that she wasn’t doing her work.

Diana was prepared to sort things out over lunch. What she wasn’t prepared for was to see Winnifred Rose walking into the cafeteria with Gilbert Blythe wearing his sweatshirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'm sorry! I know many people were looking forward to Gilbert finding out but I just couldn't make things that easy. I've got mixed feelings about how I wrote this one and it was one of the hardest chapters to write so far. However, my rough outline is nearly complete. I know exactly where this story is going and I have some ideas for at least one sequel (possibly two) and several one-shots if people haven't grown sick of this verse.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!
> 
> Also, I'm now on Twitter as h0lyheadharpies if you want to give me a follow. Might also revive my Tumblr (also h0lyheadharpies) but the jury is still out on that one.


	16. Chapter 15

B-L-Y-T-H-E. The bolded letters above the large number nine were stretched across the blonde girl from that morning’s shoulders and Anne felt like she was about to be sick to her stomach. Why had she been so stubborn? If only she had not been so dead set on holding a grudge against Gilbert, perhaps she would have seen this coming. It wouldn’t have hurt any less, no, but at least she would have been prepared.

“I **overheard** Christina Lawrence telling Ashley Thomas that they’re soulmates and that they only just found out.” Tilly’s words pulled Anne out of her own head. _Soulmates_. Anne was beginning to hate the very word. She was also starting to second-guess her revelation. Perhaps she hadn’t seen his mark clear enough. It was definitely a tree. Maybe the roots were different?

Ruby was sniffling at the other end of the table and Jane was attempting to comfort the weeping girl while Josie rolled her eyes. Anne felt bad for Ruby–whose hopes were crushed–she really did, but she was also grateful that the girl was serving as a distraction for the others while Anne picked at her food, appetite long gone. If anyone noticed that she didn’t say a word, they didn’t mention it.

After a wee while, she suddenly spoke, her voice a bit shaky. “I’m just going to nip out to the toilets,” she told the girls, standing.

Diana was right behind her. “I’ll go with you. Have to fix my eyeliner,” she added as an explanation.

Once the two were out of the cafeteria, clearly alone with all other students either at lunch or in their respective classrooms, Diana asked, “Are you okay?”

Anne felt like she could cry, but she refused. Not trusting herself to keep composure if she spoke, she merely nodded though the expression on her face said she was anything but fine.

“I’m going to kill Gilbert Blythe for this one,” Diana muttered under her breath. She knew that it was unfair to be angry at someone for being with their soulmate, but all bets were off when it came to her best friend’s happiness.

“Shall I take you to the nurse? Tell them you’ve got a migraine?” She has been by Anne’s side all morning, but they had such different schedules in the afternoon. The way Anne had been distracted was worrying and the fact that she would have to navigate the afternoon alone, in a class she shared with Gilbert no less, was worrying.

Again Anne shook her head. “I’ll be fine.” She shot her best friend a weak smile.

* * *

Gilbert’s morning started out just like any other Monday during hockey season. He slept as late as possible, making it downstairs just in time to grab the breakfast that Elise had prepared for him on his way out to the Jeep. After loading his hockey bag into the back, he sped off in the direction of Avonlea High, eating his breakfast on the go.

On some Monday mornings, he liked to hit up the Tim Hortons drive-thru, but he had forgotten his AP Biology textbook in his locker over the weekend and wanted to make sure that he had time to retrieve it before his first period lab. He was just about to close his locker and head off to class when he heard, “Oh good, you’re on time today!” Recognising the voice belonging to his lab partner, Winnifred Rose, Gilbert smirked.

“That was _one_ time!” he defended himself. “And it wasn’t my fault that the woman in front of me at Tim Horton’s decided to order three dozen donuts in the drive-thru. Everyone knows that the polite thing to do is go inside when you’re placing such a large order.”

“I hope your donut with sprinkles was worth it. Alberts made me partner with Gardner…”

“Hey now, it was a double-double actually.” They both laughed.

“Well whatever it was, thanks to Gardner, our data was skewed, and I got my worst mark of the year. How am I meant to get off U of T’s waitlist if I can’t maintain or improve my GPA?” Winnie was taking AP Bio for similar reasons why Gilbert was; she aspired to be a nurse and taking as many biological and anatomical classes as she could would prepare her to study for her future profession at university. “At this rate, I’ll end up taking the scholarship to Laurier.”

Gilbert grimaced when she mentioned Toronto. He felt a bit bad that he had been offered full tuition when she wasn’t guaranteed a place at all. He was about to respond when the warning bell rang. Closing his locker, he said “We’d both better head to class then.”

It was a good thing they were both on time, Gilbert noted, when Mr. Alberts announced that they would be dissecting foetal pigs for their lab. With his aspirations of becoming a doctor, Gilbert was excited to get some hands-on experience examining organs and would happily work alone, Alberts only ever provided enough material for his students to work in pairs.

Winnie was content to allow Gilbert to do the majority of the cutting, but took almost as much joy as he did in removing the internal organs and examining them closer. They took turns removing organs and examining them and Gilbert was fully absorbed in his task of removing the heart when he heard a shriek. Winnie was holding the stomach and it appeared that some sort of liquid was dripping from it. Gilbert had read that sometime foetal pigs’ stomachs contained amniotic fluid.

“My shirt’s ruined!” she complained, and Gilbert noticed that a glob of (what he assumed was) amniotic fluid had soaked through her shirt dead centre between her breasts. Given the fact that the fluid wasn’t coloured, Gilbert was certain that it wouldn’t stain, but if it were him, he wouldn’t want to walk around with fluid from a dead animal on his clothing, so ever the gentleman, he offered her the spare sweatshirt he kept in his locker during the winter months.

He never expected the buzz that a girl wearing his shirt might create. Then again, Winnie Rose was a different story altogether. Popular as she was, she had gotten her soul mark two years earlier and no boy at school had yet managed to catch her attention. So naturally, when people saw Gilbert’s surname and jersey number across her back, they made assumptions.

By the time Mr. Phillips dismissed his French class, the cafeteria was already full of students gossiping about the pair and Gilbert could have sworn most of the guys in his class were either glaring at him or shooting him disappointed looks. Confused, he went about his normal routine, disrupted only by Winnie joining him in the hot food queue.

“Can I sit with you today?” she asked, to which he nodded.

Once they were seated across from each other, trays of food between them, Winnie spoke again. “So, people are talking about us. They think we’re soulmates…”

Gilbert’s eyes widened and he couldn’t help trying to sneak a glance at her wrist, which was significantly less subtle than he thought. It also proved fruitless as his sweatshirt was big on her to begin with and the sleeves went down to her knuckles. “I know we’re not, but if you don’t mind, I think we should go with it,” she added. Gilbert nodded as she began speaking again, allowing her to give her explanation. Still grieving the events of Diana’s New Year’s party, Gilbert still had no desire to find his own soulmate. So, if people wanted to think that he and Winnifred Rose were soulmates, let ‘em. He knew the truth and at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

* * *

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Anne muttered under her breath after Miss Stacey read off the article assignments for the _Avonlea Gazette_. Of course she would be asked to cover the hockey playoffs on Friday. It wasn’t like she had an excuse not to, either. What was she meant to say? Sorry, but turns out I have a soul mark too and I thought it was the hockey captain’s only he’s with someone else now and it’s breaking my heart? No, that would yield too many questions and probably make her the laughing stock of the newspaper staff, too. Instead, she nodded begrudgingly.

“Ooh, Miss Stacey, can I do the photos for the game as well?” Diana piped up and Anne shot her an appreciative glance. Whatever would she do without such a wonderful kindred spirit?

“As long as you two promise not to distract one another,” Miss Stacey agreed, knowing all too well how easy it was for the girls to get lost in their own world. “Oh, and get an interview with the coach and their captain afterward,” she added. Anne groaned. Her week really couldn’t get any worse.

By the time Friday evening rolled around, Anne was dragging her feet. She was absolutely dreading the hockey game. As much as she had come to love the sport, she was trying to avoid seeing the star player as much as she could…and now she was about to be stuck writing an article about him.

“Anne, let’s go,” Diana whined as the redhead debated which notebook she wanted to use. Diana was well aware of the fact that the bright red composition book was strictly for newspaper duties, but she pretended otherwise for as long as possible, pushing Anne only once she knew that they were at risk of being late.

When they arrived at the rink, the building was packed, and they only found their seats in time because of the school press passes that Diana flashed at the ticket booth.

_Okay, Anne, you can do this,_ she told herself. _Just focus on the game._ As the players took their places on the opening faceoff, Anne was full of nerves. While she wanted Avonlea to win, she was not looking forward to writing about Gilbert.

As soon as the game got going, Anne was enraptured as usual. Playoff hockey, she learned, was on an entirely different level from the games she had been to before. The guys were skating faster, hitting harder, and playing with an urgency that suggested they were losing late in the game. Anne supposed the stakes were higher here; if Avonlea won they would be playing in the championship. If they lost, their season was over; for many of the graduating seniors, losing meant the end to their playing careers.

The first period ended scoreless. So did the second. Despite the higher-than-normal physicality of the game, neither team was relenting. Anne was on the edge of her seat, nervous for her team. All it would take is one mistake to end their season. She was pleased with how focused she had managed to be; despite a scoreless game, she had already managed to fill four pages with notes for her article.

There was only one thing that could pull Anne’s focus from the game. A pair of girls were returning to their seats two rows in front of Anne. The same blonde girl who had managed to steal Gilbert’s heart was sitting in front of her wearing his jersey. _B-L-Y-T-H-E_ she studied the letters over and over again, willing the pain in her chest to disappear. Suddenly the crowd erupted into cheers. Avonlea scored with less than ten seconds on the clock. _Gilbert_ scored. Gilbert scored the game-winning goal and Anne had missed it.

“Did you see that!?” Diana asked excitedly. “I think I managed to get a full sequence of photos as he shot the puck!”

“Er, yeah,” Anne lied. She would just ask to see the proofs before Diana submitted them. “Are you ready to leave, Di?” she asked.

“Not yet! Remember, you told Miss Stacey that you would do postgame interviews.” Right, she had to interview Gilbert. Of course she did.

Anne nodded and begrudgingly followed Diana down the bleachers and toward the locker rooms. When they arrived, the coach was just stepping out of the locker room looking incredibly elated. He was a cheerful man who managed to answer all of Anne’s questions with both detail and enthusiasm, pausing at times to allow her to finish writing her notes. Once Anne had thanked him for his time and congratulated him on the win, Diana asked him to send Gilbert out, ignoring the glare Anne gave her until the girl stomped on her foot.

“Ow, Anne! Hi Gilbert—” Diana paused, and Anne turned around. This was the closest she had gotten to Gilbert in months. She had not uttered a single word to the boy in just as long.

It was evident that he had been told to dress quickly, his curls dripping like he hadn’t towelled them off after his shower. “Uh, Coach said I needed to give an interview.”

_Oh, good. He sounds just as awkward as I feel._ “Erm, yeah. Congratulations on the win. That was some goal you scored. How did it feel?” She knew it was awkward to skip the small talk and jump straight into the interview, but the whole ordeal was going to be awkward anyways, so might as well get it over with as quickly as possible.

_She’s not even going to ask how I am?_ “Thanks! As you know, it was a true team effort. None of us let up all game and the boys made some great passes at the end; I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. It feels great. There’s not a single guy in the locker room who isn’t happy with how they played tonight.”

“Er, great.” She paused for a few minutes to write down as much of his response as she could. “How did the team feel going into this game?”

“I’m not gonna lie here, we were pretty nervous. Charlottetown has a great team. They beat us pretty badly last month, but we were also excited to get out there and see who’s been working harder at practise.”

“Brilliant. What do you think the mindset will be goin—” she was about to ask her final question when an excited squeal interrupted. Before Anne could blink, the same blonde girl from earlier was wrapping her arms around Gilbert and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

_Worst. Week. Ever._

Anne turned to leave, grabbing Diana by the arm.

Neither girl saw Gilbert gently push Winnie away or how his eyes followed Anne’s retreating form. _I know I promised I’d help her out, but am I really doing the right thing?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hand if you thought Gilbert was seriously moving on with Winnie? From the reviews, I know there's quite a few of you.
> 
> Things will get better for Anne soon, I promise! The next chapter should be a fair bit longer than my normal updates, which hopefully makes up for the brevity of this one.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Casual reminder that I am on both Twitter and Tumblr as h0lyheadharpies!


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted a new chapter yesterday, too. If you haven't read that one, GO BACK AND READ IT NOW. For this chapter to make any sense, it is imperative that you read the one before.
> 
> If you're a reader from the future and this fic has already been completed, thank you for sticking with it so far.

_Am I doing the right thing?_ The thought continuously crossed Gilbert Blythe’s mind all evening. _Anne looked so sad when Winnie appeared._ He had noticed the crestfallen expression on Anne’s face almost immediately and wished more than anything that he could tell her to come back, that he regretted how they left things all those weeks ago, how his relationship with Winnie was a farce.

When people had assumed that they were together, Gilbert hadn’t stopped them. The only girl he had ever truly cared for had refused him outright. He didn’t care about his soul mark or what it meant—to him, it meant society wanted to dictate his future. When Winnifred asked him to go along with it for her sake, it was so easy to agree; her parents did not approve of her soul mate and he disapproved of the notion of soulmates altogether.

Ever since their row, Gilbert had wanted to make amends with Anne. He wanted more than anything to convince her that he was not about to let some picture on his skin decide his future. Even if she only agreed to be his friend, at least he still would have had her in his life. But Anne wanted nothing to do with him anymore and Gilbert knew he needed to respect that.

Still, he couldn’t help the guilt that washed over him when he saw Anne’s face as Winnie pressed that kiss against his cheek.

“Winnie, stop.” Gilbert untangled himself from her and gently shoved her away from him. “What did you do that for?”

“If people are going to think we’re soulmates, we have to act the part,” she told him matter-of-fact. “That girl was interviewing you for the paper, yeah? Those journalist types are always so gossipy; it was the perfect opportunity.”

_That girl._ If only Winnie knew that she was the whole reason he had agreed to this mess. And Anne was one of the least gossipy girls he knew. If it was Tilly Boulter interviewing him, it would be a different matter entirely.

“Whatever. Let me grab my bag so we can go,” he told Winnie, defeated before re-entering the locker room.

Later, once he had handed his things over to his parents, the two made the familiar trek to Charlie Sloane’s house as was customary after big wins. Despite still riding the high of winning the playoff semifinals, Gilbert wasn’t much in the mood for partying, but Winnie had insisted that they needed to show up together. Besides, what sort of a captain was he if he didn’t celebrate with the team?

“People are going to start thinking it’s just a rumour if they don’t see us here together,” Winnie argued as they reached the door. “So keep your arm around my waist, have a few drinks, dance for a bit and then we can leave.”

So Gilbert obliged. And if his eyes were constantly scanning the room for Anne, it didn’t matter; she wasn’t there. He spotted Tilly with the two Pauls, Jane, Josie, and Ruby—Anne’s friend group save for Diana—laughing and drinking in a corner of the expansive living room. Winnifred did most of the talking that evening as he continuously looked to the corner where Anne’s friends were, willing the girl to show up. Eventually, he silently invented his own drinking game; anytime he looked to the corner, he took a shot.

Normally, Gilbert Blythe was a happy drunk, but not this time. His glum demeanour was noticeable to the point where Winnie—who had barely had anything to drink—pulled him aside and asked him to, “Get it together, Gilbert!”

Gilbert, who was long past caring (and probably just a few drinks away from blacking out), began to tear up. “Why won’t she talk to me?”

“Who.”

“Anne.”

Winnifred rolled her eyes. Of course it was about the Irish girl again. In the past week, he had brought her up in conversation more times than Winnie could count. It wasn’t that she was jealous of the girl—far from it actually—but what reason did he have to be pining after her? If Winnie didn’t know any better, she would suspect that the girl was his soulmate after all. But thinking so would be foolish.

“Her again?” The annoyance in Winnie’s voice would have been evident to Gilbert several drinks ago. Instead, he just nodded. “You don’t need her, Gilbert. She’s not your soulmate. You’re leaving in a few months. Just forget about her,” Winnie urged.

“Don’t want to,” Gilbert mumbled along with a few other incoherent words. “…miss her.”

“I know you do. Why don’t I grab our jackets and walk you home?” Again, Gilbert just nodded, wishing it was Anne he got to walk home with.

* * *

Mid-March brought more sunshine and slightly warmer temperatures. Although it wasn’t warm enough for Anne to start wearing skirts again, it appeared that the days of walking to school in a sub-zero tundra were behind her. For the first time since the island had been blanketed in snow, Anne discovered that her thick woolly jumpers were a bit too warm to wear beneath her parka. As such, she began wearing her spring cardigans on the warmer days. Such was the case on Wednesday morning.

It had been nearly a week since the hockey game and, with the championship approaching on Saturday, Miss Stacey had announced during Monday’s meeting that a special edition would be printed to be distributed at lunch on Wednesday to promote the upcoming final. Anne’s article, along with Diana’s photos, would be the focal point and would be supplemented by editorials (Tilly’s gossip column) and features articles that hadn’t made the initial cut, but were still good enough to be considered for future publications.

To say Anne was nervous put things mildly. Although she had taken extensive notes throughout the game, she had missed the lone goal that sent Avonlea to victory…all because she was distracted by some girl wearing the captain’s jersey. Speaking of the captain, her interview with him was awkward as all hell and despite pouring over drafts all weekend, she couldn’t quite figure out how she wanted to incorporate the quotes from Gilbert. For the first time in her life, she had turned in an article that she was not wholly proud of, but she couldn’t stare at her writing for any longer.

By the time she got to her lunch table, distribution was well underway. If it weren’t for Diana’s insistence that she see how well her photos came out, Anne wouldn’t have read her work at all.

_15 th March 1996 – AVONLEA ICE CENTRE_

_On Friday night, the Avonlea Avalanche took to the ice against fierce opponent, Charlottetown, for the PEI varsity hockey playoff semi-finals. The atmosphere was electric as the two teams battled hard to earn their place in the championship. The tension in the arena was palpable and even the most novice of hockey fans could see that this game was Avonlea’s most intense competition all season._

_The players were skating faster, delivering harder hits, and the goaltenders were blocking shots as if their lives depended on it—the survival of their season did depend on it. After a scoreless first and second period, neither team appeared willing to relent. Just when it appeared that the game was heading toward a sudden death overtime, Moody Spurgeon-MacPherson sent the puck hurtling toward the slot on a rocket of a pass which was buried home by captain, Gilbert Blythe with just 8.5 seconds on the clock, sealing Charlottetown’s fate._

_Regarding the win, coach Jennings said, “I’m very proud of these boys. As a coach, you try to put your players in the best position to be successful, but ultimately it’s up to them to deliver the results. We have a great group this year and they’ve been highly motivated all season. If the boys continue to work hard this week, we’ll definitely be in a good place to compete for the cup next weekend._

_Captain Gilbert Blythe also had a few things to say. “We were pretty nervous. Charlottetown has a great team. They beat us pretty badly last month_ [6-2] _, but we were also excited to get out there and see who’s been working harder.” As for his game-winning goal, “It was a true team effort. None of us let up all game and the boys made some great passes at the end; I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. It feels great. There’s not a single guy in the locker room who isn’t happy with how they played tonight.”_

_Avonlea will take on Souris Regional for the PEI Provincial Cup on Saturday, 23 rd March at 3pm. You can cheer them on at the Charlottetown Civic Centre. Tickets are $5 at the door. [see pg. 3 for photos]_

Anne finished reading over the article, quite pleased with its turnout and grateful to whoever managed to format the quotes from Gilbert so that they read less awkward. She was about to turn the page to look at the photos Diana took when Ruby piped up, “Can I please read it now?” reaching across the table and knocking over Anne’s water bottle in the process.

The spill managed to miss the article, but the left sleeve of Anne’s cardigan was drenched, Anne having just refilled her bottle before lunch began. “Ruby!” she gasped in surprise while the other girl turned bright red.

“I’m so sorry!” she apologised.

“It’s alright. I still need to look at the photo spread, but I should get this cleaned up first, so here you go.” Anne handed the paper over to her remorseful friend. Assessing the damage, she noticed that there was little to clean up, her sleeve having absorbed most of the water. It was rather uncomfortable against Anne’s delicate skin, so without thinking, she removed her sweater.

It was the first time since before her birthday that Anne wasn’t wearing a long-sleeved top, and her friends noticed the mark on her right wrist before she did. Anne only realised her mistake when her friends made a collective, audible gasp and Tilly asked, “Anne, what is that on your wrist?”

Instantly, as if on instinct, Anne’s left hand clasped over her wrist, but it was too late. Her friends had seen too much. Diana stared into Anne’s eyes, giving her a knowing look. “I think you should tell them.”

“I have a soul mark,” said Anne shakily, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Anne had played out this scenario several times in her head. It was foolish to assume that she would be able to keep her mark hidden once the summer months approached, but she had not anticipated her friends finding out like this. She was prepared for silent stares. She was prepared for her friends to ask her a million questions as they had done about her culture. She was not prepared to reveal her mark at school, nor was she prepared for Josie Pye’s reaction.

Josie was on her feet quicker than Anne could process. “YOU LIAR!” the girl shouted, drawing attention from across the cafeteria.

“Poor outsider trash Anne wanted to fit in so badly that she drew her own mark on!” Anne could detect the hurt in Josie’s voice and see the betrayal in her eyes. “I bet it washes off with water.” Before Anne could comprehend what was happening, Josie was leaning over the table to dump her own water out on Anne’s pale skin. The mark didn’t smudge in the slightest. Anne knew it wouldn’t; it was as much a part of her as the freckles that surrounded it.

“What did you do then? Get a tattoo?” Anne shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. She thought she had known how cruel Josie could be, but her coldness toward Anne during her first months in Avonlea couldn’t hold a candle to this, each word cutting Anne like a knife.

The other girls watched on, shocked, still processing the newfound information about their friend. Josie, however, was not relenting. “I CAN’T BELIEVE I TRUSTED YOU! All those bullshit words you spewed at me about how my lack of a mark didn’t matter because I could be the bride of adventure and how I could pick my own destiny were a bunch of lies, weren’t they? WEREN’T THEY?” By now, tears were flowing freely down Anne’s cheeks. “How can I trust that you didn’t tell anyone about me?” The girls’ eyes widened. Sure, Josie hadn’t mentioned her mark since before her birthday, but no one had expected this. Not getting one’s mark was seen as a disgrace and was incredibly rare. Even people who assumed the worst about Josie Pye would have hesitated to suggest that her wrist lay bare.

Anne had never felt so small in her life. Choking back the hot, embarrassed tears running down her cheeks, Anne managed to squeak out, “I didn’t tell anyone, not a single soul.”

Diana piped up in support of her dear friend. “Josie, _you_ just did.”

Suddenly, Anne was aware of all the eyes on her, so she did the only thing she could think of. She ran.

* * *

_“YOU LIAR!”_ Josie Pye’s shriek was deafening, enough so that all other noise in the cafeteria came to a grinding halt. At first, Gilbert chose to ignore the girl’s outburst, but couldn’t help turning his head when he heard Anne’s name. Blood curdling, he was about to get up and defend Anne ( _how dare she call her trash_ ) when he saw Josie grab her wrist. From a distance, he couldn’t make out the exact image, but the outline looked familiar. It looked like…no. Gilbert felt the pit of his stomach drop as Josie poured water over the mark and it didn’t budge.

_How? When? Why didn’t she tell me? What about Winnie? What do I do?_ Gilbert’s mind was about to explode with questions as the newfound information overloaded his brain.

Like the rest of the cafeteria, Gilbert was watching the display from Anne’s table in stunned silence. Josie Pye was the one who didn’t have a mark, yet Anne was the one he felt sorry for. Despite any confusion Anne’s predicament may have caused, no one deserved to be outed like that, so publicly and without their consent. _Serves her right,_ Gilbert thought bitterly as he watched Josie’s self-implosion. Anne was not the sort of person to betray one’s trust, regardless of who they were; it was one of the many things that Gilbert had come to admire about the girl. Speaking of Anne, where did she go? Distracted by his own thoughts, he had missed Anne fleeing completely.

Although he had identified the outline of Anne’s mark, the reality of what it meant took several minutes to sink in, but once it did, Gilbert felt sick to his stomach. He had been so determined to evade meeting his soulmate that he had started a fake relationship with one of the most popular girls in school, purely built upon a foundation of rumours.

Winnie’s soulmate was a woman and her parents did not approve. Choosing to be in a relationship with a man was enough to placate her father so that he would not rescind her trust fund. If Gilbert were to break up with her now rather than September, once she had turned eighteen, the girl would be penniless. She was relying on that money to pay for university. Gilbert couldn’t just rip out the rug from underneath her; it was a cruelty that he was truly incapable of.

Meanwhile, everything he ever felt toward Anne came rushing back. Every feeling he had cast aside or tried to ignore since that fateful evening wormed its way back into his chest and he felt as if he were about to explode. To say he was overwhelmed would be an absolute understatement.

Unsure of what to do, Gilbert felt on the verge of panic. He didn’t consider checking himself out of school. Instead, he made a beeline for the student lot, grateful that his dad had been letting him take his car during hockey season (he was equally grateful that the team had the night off from training).

Elise Blythe was surprised to see her son home from school so early, but Gilbert reassured her that he was fine and just had a small headache. As soon as he reached his bedroom, he bundled up in his duvet, where he began thinking of possible scenarios.

Perhaps he could break things off with Winnie without informing her family. No, that would never work in a town so small as Avonlea—especially if he were to act on his feelings for Anne. Assuming Anne would even hear him out.

Anne was a pretty reasonable person. What if she agreed to let Gilbert continue his “relationship” with Winnie until her birthday? Again, this assumed that Anne was even slightly interested in reconciling with him. And even if she was, it would be incredibly unfair of him to ask that of her. Now that he knew the truth, he wanted nothing more than to spend as much time as possible in her presence before it was time for him to go off to university.

After hours of mulling over his options, Gilbert determined the most logical solution would be to let Winnie call the shots. She was the one who had the most to lose, after all. If he and Anne were truly meant for one another, they would forge a path in their own time. Sure, the mess with Winnie created a fork in the middle of that path, but Gilbert had reached the conclusion that he and Anne would end up together eventually if their marks were the match he suspected they were.

The next morning, Gilbert left for school much earlier than usual, giving himself plenty of time to pick up coffees for himself and Winnie on the way in. If he was going to initiate a rather difficult conversation, he supposed the least he could do was provide his fake girlfriend with caffeine.

Despite his early departure, Winnifred was already waiting at his locker when he arrived, a determined look on her face. As usual, she was well put together, and her demeanour emphasised that.

“Look, Gilbert, we need to talk.”

“Winnie, I—”

“No Gilbert, let me speak please.” If Gilbert had learnt anything about his lab-partner-turned-fake-girlfriend, it was that she spoke very bluntly. “I think we should break up.”

Gilbert raised a brow. He had imagined several different scenarios—and even had a spare shirt in his bag in case his decision to buy her a coffee backfired—but this was not one of them. “But your parents. University…”

“I’ve seen the way you look at Anne. You were devastated when she didn’t show at Charlie’s last party. My parents would be more devastated to find out that I selfishly prevented a pair of soulmates from being together.” She smiled at him. “As for university, I had a long talk with Prissy last night. She’s planning on backpacking across Europe, and she wants me to go with her. University will always be there and I’ll find a way to manage somehow.”

Gilbert nodded, stunned. Out of all the possible outcomes, this one did not even come close to anything he could have come up with.

“You’re a good man, Gilbert. Talk to Anne.” With that, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, took the second coffee from his hand and walked off. _Winnifred Rose is certainly something else._

Gilbert remained on high alert all day, looking and listening for Anne at every opportunity, but the girl never appeared. For once in his life, Gilbert wished he didn’t have practise after school (even though his days as a hockey player were numbered) so that he could rush over to Green Gables as soon as the final bell rang. Instead, he would go straight from the rink.

Practise seemed to drag on for hours when, in reality, it was barely 90 minutes. Gilbert had never been more grateful for his ability to focus under pressure, but found his thoughts returning to Anne whenever he was not engaged in a drill.

Normally, the captain would stay on the ice as long as possible—especially before particularly important games—but this time, as soon as Coach Jennings dismissed the team, he made a beeline for the locker room, hoping to get first shower so he could be on his way to Anne as soon as possible. In no time, he was cramming his bag into the back of the Jeep and driving off toward Green Gables.

* * *

Marilla knew that Anne was upset. Since the week following her birthday, it was obvious that something was bothering the girl, but Marilla had merely chalked it up to teenage drama—until Anne returned home early from school the previous afternoon in tears.

When Anne didn’t come down for breakfast the next morning, Marilla began to worry a bit. Upon entering Anne’s room, she found the girl awake, but wrapped in her duvet, unwilling to move. From the puffy, bloodshot eyes, Marilla suspected that her niece had been up half the night, crying, but initially saw no reason why she couldn’t go to school. Naturally, Marilla’s insistence that Anne go to school invoked a mild argument between the two, eventually mediated by Matthew, who had heard the arguing when he came in from the barn.

Matthew insisted that Anne wouldn’t bunk off school without good reason and, since her grades were stellar, insisted that she deserved a day off if she truly felt that she needed it. “If you don’t phone the school and tell them she’s ill, I’ll do it myself, Marilla,” he told her, sounding the most assertive Anne had ever heard him. A more spirited Anne would have hugged him for that, but in her current state, Anne wanted nothing more than to wallow—and maybe take a nap or two; she truly had slept terribly.

By lunchtime, Anne was feeling a little better, enough so to join her aunt and uncle for lunch. Marilla usually insisted that Anne help wash up after meals, but this time insisted on sending her back upstairs with, “A warm shower might do you some good.”

Marilla was right. The hot water washing over her was calming and allowed Anne to gather her thoughts. So everyone knew that the foreign girl had a mark, too? Big deal. She had dealt with disparaging remarks and judgemental stares since her arrival on the island and if she had to continue to field them, well she was quite used to it after all. But how would she ever fix the mess with Josie or face Gilbert again? 

Josie had been half the reason Anne kept her mark a secret; she knew she would have told more than just Diana at her birthday tea if not for consideration of Josie’s feelings. And Gilbert. She had pushed him away because he told her his mark didn’t matter when he tried to kiss her all those months ago; that they could never have been more than friends because he had a mark and she would never. If she turned up at his house, would he even speak to her now? There was Winnie to consider, too. Even if Anne thought her mark looked like Gilbert’s, everyone seemed so convinced that Gilbert and Winnie were soulmates. The whats and ifs continued to pile up in her mind as the shower began to run cold.

Putting pen to paper was the only thing that had truly helped her sort out her thoughts and feelings in the past few months. Anne was brushing out her damp hair when the idea came to her. _If I could write Gilbert a bunch of letters that I had no intention of sending, maybe I could do the same for Josie? I doubt she would speak to me, but maybe one of the girls could get her to read a note?_ As soon as she thought it, Anne made up her mind. Instead of reaching for her leather-bound journal however, she plucked a piece of floral stationary from one of her desk drawers and began to write:

_Josie,_

_I know you’re furious with me. You have every right to be, but I want you to know that I never lied to you. I was just as shocked as everyone else when I discovered that I might get a mark. My parents left me a letter to be read the night before my birthday. Apparently my father was from a Scottish island where soul mark exist, too. When I woke up to find a mark on my wrist, I was so conflicted; I have always (and still do) aspired to be the bride of adventure._

_I thought about telling you all at tea, sharing the letter my mother penned. Then I thought about how you might feel and decided to keep my mark hidden. If I’ve betrayed your trust in any way, I’m sorry. If you don’t believe me, ask Diana. She is my closest confidant on this side of the ocean. She is the only person not living at Green Gables who knew of my mark before yesterday. Until yesterday, even she had no idea that you never got a mark; I promised you that I wouldn’t say anything and I never betrayed your confidence._

_Even now, as I sit here in possession of my own soul mark, I refuse to retract anything I told you on your birthday._ You _are the one in command of your destiny. You have the freedom to roam the world without worrying that you might be leaving someone behind in the process; I cannot begin to stress how much I envy you there. No one, absolutely no one, is holding you back._

_I’m struggling to figure out how I’ll be able to face everyone now that my secret has been revealed to the entire school; I have no idea if any of our friends (aside from Di, of course) will even want to speak to me now, yet I am still humbly seeking your forgiveness. I’m sorry I never told you._

_Your (hopefully) friend,  
_ _Anne_

Even with the letter written, Anne wondered if Josie might rip it up. If nothing else, having that weight off her chest made her feel better. However, she was still conflicted about how to face Gilbert. Worried that he, too, would feel betrayed by her as she had by him, Anne knew that she would have to speak with him eventually, no matter how awkward it was. Whether it was his mark or someone else’s on her wrist, she owed him that much. Only for once in her life, Anne had no idea what she would even say. “Hi, I know I was a cow because you didn’t tell me when you got your mark, but surprise, I’m a hypocrite!” just didn’t seem like it would work, nor could Anne see herself so willing to admit fault. So naturally, she did the only thing she could think of. Opening her journal to a blank page, she took to her pen once more.

_Gilbert,_

_Surely you must think me an insufferable fool by now. How could I be so cruel to you when it turned out that I, myself, also have a mark? To be completely honest, I never expected to get one. I spent my entire life believing that I was one hundred percent Irish. Marilla is the only living relative that I know of. Mrs. Brady had only met my father on few occasions in the mere months that he lived in Belfast. I had never heard of soulmates until I arrived in Charlottetown and as far as I knew, Prince Edward Island was the only place in the world where they existed._

_I know I’ve probably confused you by now, so I should probably clarify; I’m half Scottish and there’s an island on the west coast where soulmates are very much a thing. My dad was from there. I only just found out on the eve of my birthday not two weeks ago. I wanted to tell you almost immediately. I went over to your house, not sure if you would even be willing to speak with me, but your mum said that you were in Halifax for the day, so I devised a plan to speak with you at school; I even got there early. Unfortunately, Winnifred Rose was there before me. By lunch, there was talk of her being your soulmate. If she is, I’m truly happy for you—even though I would give anything to be in her place._

_I hope that you can someday forgive me. I miss—_

Anne’s letter was cut short with a knock at her door. Marilla opened the door a crack and poked her head in. “Gilbert’s downstairs and would like to speak with you.” Anne’s pen slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a soft clang. “I think you should hear him out.”

Anne nodded, standing. “Tell him I’ll be down in a minute.” Quickly, she ran a brush through her hair and glanced in the mirror to make sure her eyes weren’t bloodshot anymore. Her heart was pounding in her chest and Anne worried that Gilbert might be able to hear it, but she knew that he would have even more questions if she didn’t appear at all, so, shakily, she made her way down the stairs.

Gilbert was waiting at the front door. His toque covered his damp curls, quite like it had when she interviewed him after the hockey game and she supposed that he had probably come straight from practise.

The two stared at each other in an awkward silence for a few minutes before Gilbert finally spoke. “D’you mind taking a walk with me?”

Anne nodded, supposing that it would be best for them to talk outside of Green Gables, out of earshot of her aunt. “Just let me get my coat.”

The path Gilbert chose was familiar to Anne despite the many months she had avoided it. She knew exactly where he was leading her; to _their_ tree. At first, they walked in awkward silence, neither seeming to know what to say to the other. If there was one thing Anne hated, it was uncomfortable silences, so after a while, she decided to speak. “I tried to tell you, you know,” she began awkwardly. “I even walked over to your house, but your mum said you weren’t home so I decided to tell you at school the next day, but—”

“Let me guess; you saw me with Winnie, didn’t you?” Gilbert’s tone was expressionless, Anne noted as she nodded in assent. He stopped them just as their tree came into view. “I just want to know how, Anne,” he pleaded.

“I had absolutely no idea this was even possible, I swear,” she began, her eyes pleading with him to believe her. “Until two weeks ago, I thought I was wholly Irish. I never even knew that my da was Scottish until I read the letter.” So many things were running through Anne’s mind that she didn’t consider the fact that she had not yet told Gilbert about the letter until she noticed the look on his face. It was as if he was silently trying to say, _“What the hell are you on about?”_

“Erm, my parents left me a letter that they wanted me to read just before my sixteenth. Apparently, my da is from an island off the west coast of Scotland…and island where soulmates are a very real thing.” Gilbert’s eyes widened. He definitely had not seen that one coming. “When I saw my mark the next morning, I got a sense of déjà vu, as if I had seen it somewhere but just couldn’t place where. That night, I realised that it looked familiar because I _had_ seen it before. Well, at least I thought I had.”

Gilbert raised a brow. _So it wasn’t just me._ “It reminded me of yours. Even if it turned out to be different, I was going to tell you.”

“Winnie and I are not together,” he blurted out instantly, the butterflies in his stomach becoming too much to handle. Unintentionally, spreading the intangible feeling to the girl beside him as well. “I was heartbroken when you pushed me away. I resented my mark from the moment it appeared, knowing that it would someday be a point of contention in our friendship. After our fight at Diana’s, I detested it; I decided to keep my mark covered until I was good and ready, until I was so far from Avonlea and this island that it didn’t matter whether I had a soulmate or not.” He turned to face her. “Winnie’s soulmate is a girl and her parents don’t approve. They were going to take away her trust fund, which is how she planned on paying for nursing school.”

Anne gasped. This all hit so close to home with the Barrys planning to ship Diana off to Toronto.

"The rumours started because I lent Winnie my sweatshirt after there was an incident in our Bio lab. I was so jaded by the concept of soulmates that I saw no reason to deny them. Then Winnie asked me if we could go along with it until her eighteenth birthday in October.”

Suddenly, any hatred she had felt toward the blonde evaporated. The poor girl was just trying to make sure that she didn’t lose anything, and Gilbert was such a good guy that he was willing to go along with it. She did, however, feel pangs of guilt in the pit of her stomach knowing that all of this had happened, in part, as a result of the hurt she had caused him.

Gilbert reached for Anne’s right hand. “D’you mind if I have a look?”

Anne was hesitant. “Wouldn’t it be better if we didn’t know? Not until October at least?”

Gilbert shook his head. “Winnie and I called things off this morning. Rather, she called them off. I couldn’t in good conscience bail on her, but after I caught a glimpse of your mark during Josie’s display yesterday, I couldn’t stop wondering.” Anne’s cheeks reddened at the mention of one of the most humiliating moments of her life.

“But what about her university fund?”

Gilbert shrugged. “She’s going to take a gap year and backpack Europe with her soulmate.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Gilbert moved to grab her wrist again. “May I?”

This time, Anne nodded. Her heart was pounding hard and fast, threatening to burst through her chest and she was on the verge of shaking with nerves. Gilbert’s fingers were cold as they slid her coat sleeve up just enough to see the mark in its entirety. He gasped, tracing over the familiar lines as he had done so many times before with his own, _identical_ mark.

“It _is_ you,” he breathed before dropping her wrist to reveal his own mark.

Anne couldn’t help the grin or the peals of laughter that escaped her when she finally realised that they had been meant to be together all along.

When she began to settle down, she noticed that Gilbert was grinning too. “What’s so funny, he asked?”

“You wanted to ignore your mark for me and I wished that you had no mark at all. We could have saved ourselves all this trouble if I wasn’t so stubborn. It’s kind of funny in hindsight, if you think about it."

Gilbert was elated. His feelings all those months ago had been returned after all. Chuckling, he replied, “I suppose it is.” He stepped closer to her. “For the record, if I try to kiss you, you’re not going to push me away again, are you?”

Anne was speechless. Her breath hitched as she shook her head. In what simultaneously felt like ages yet no time at all, Gilbert wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. Cupping her cheek with his hand, he leaned in to press his lips to hers.

Beneath that tree where their friendship had formed all those months ago, Gilbert kissed his soulmate. And this time, instead of pushing him away, his soulmate kissed him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised that the end of Anne's suffering was in sight and hopefully, I delivered. This is by far the longest chapter I've ever written, but I'm quite pleased with how it turned out.
> 
> There are a few more chapters left, but the outline for a sequel is in the works.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I can't wait to hear your thoughts!


	18. Chapter 17

Anne wasn’t sure if several minutes had passed, or if it had been hours; Gilbert’s lips were soft and warm against hers. She had always supposed her first kiss would be awkward, nothing like the ones in her romance novels, but it was as if they were made to fit together. In a way, they were, really.

The kiss started out innocent enough, but closed-mouth pecks quickly heated as Gilbert used the gentle force of his mouth to draw hers open. Anne responded eagerly, carding her fingers through the thick curls at the nape of Gilbert’s neck while his arms at her waist drew her closer to him as if neither one could get enough of the other. For the first time since she had left her home in Ireland, Anne finally felt a true sense of belonging wash over her. Every tragedy, every loss, every conflict in her short life had brought her to this moment.

When they finally broke apart, Gilbert kept his tight hold on Anne, who nuzzled contentedly into his neck as they silently soaked each other in. The scent of fresh soap and something so distinctly Gilbert was calming, and his skin was warm against her own. This had been a long time coming an neither party wanted to relent their hold until the memory had been permanently ingrained into their minds. Both had wondered about the meaning behind their respective marks but, beneath the tree, _their tree_ , where their tumultuous relationship began, everything seemed to click into place. It was a real shame that Avonlea was still blanketed in snow, for Anne would have loved nothing more than to sit in its shade and revel in Gilbert’s company. She believed there would be many such afternoons in their future and she couldn’t wait for the true arrival of Spring, when they would finally be able to take full advantage of the secluded spot on the far edge of the Blythe property.

Once she was certain that she wasn’t about to say or do anything foolish, still feeling a bit weak at the knees over her first kiss, Anne took a step back, instinctively lacing her fingers with Gilbert’s. Almost instantly, she realised what she had done and blushed furiously. _So much for not making a fool of yourself, Shirley._ “Er, sorry,” she blurted out.

Gilbert looked down at her and smiled, noting how cute she was when she blushed. “Don’t be.” He squeezed her hand comfortingly before bringing raising the intertwined digits and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles before covering the back of her hand with his other one. “This is nice.” He could feel the cool metal of the silver band around her ring finger, but hadn’t seen what it was until that moment. “Perhaps you would consider turning this over?” he asked, brushing over the ring with his thumb, a blush creeping over his own cheeks when he realised how forward he was being. Anne had only found out that he was unattached moments ago and here he was assuming she would be willing to agree to be his girlfriend so soon after he had ended what their peers thought to be a very real relationship.

As with nearly everything else she did, Anne amazed Gilbert yet again when she nodded and detached her hand from his so that she could slip the ring off and turn it right side up so that the point of the heart was toward the very wrist that bore his mark. “How do you know how a Claddagh ring is meant to be worn?” she asked him, wonder in her eyes.

Gilbert scratched his head shyly. “After I finished that book of folklore you gave me for Christmas, I was curious, so I researched other Irish cultural traditions,” he shrugged.

Just when Anne thought he couldn’t be any more perfect, Gilbert Blythe had to go and open his mouth and say something too caring for his own good. Overwhelmed with emotion for the boy who appeared to care about her more than he had previously let on, Anne stood on her tiptoes and pulled his face down to hers in another passionate kiss.

“Erm, sorry,” she apologised for what seemed to her like the hundredth time once they broke apart.

Gilbert chuckled, before repeating his previous reply of, “Don’t be.” He wondered how long before such gestures became commonplace, where neither was worried about being too forward with the other. Then he remembered that they were soulmates, and Anne could be his adorably awkward girl for as long as she was willing. The idea warmed his heart indescribably.

“School’s going to be a lot more bearable now that you’re no longer ignoring me,” he said, realising that everything that had happened meant they would probably turn to studying together once again, perhaps with greater frequency now that he knew his feelings toward her were returned measurably and with fervour.

There was a long pause. “About that… Gilbert, as far as the whole school is concerned, you _just_ broke up with Winnie. Actually, does anyone even know?”

Gilbert shrugged. He hadn’t considered that one.

“Does anyone else even know that her soulmate is a woman? I don’t want to risk outing her. Besides, people are going to be staring at me and I’m sure people will be whispering about me as if they don’t realise I’m fully aware, as is; do you really want to be dragged into that mess too?”

Gilbert sighed, his heart sinking at the idea that Anne was too ashamed of him to make their newly established relationship public knowledge. “I don’t know. And for the record, I don’t care what anyone has to say about me besides _you._ ” His shoulders slumped, disappointment evident on his face. Anne noticed this and shot him a sympathetic look.

“People haven’t always been the nicest to me since I arrived. I would hate to have any of that hostility directed at you,” Anne explained bluntly. “You’re Avonlea’s golden boy. It’s going to be hard enough for the town to accept that you’re somehow linked to the foreigner who never should have been here in the first place.”

_So this is about her,_ Gilbert thought sadly. _I wish the town had been more accepting of her from the very beginning._ Suddenly, keeping the news of their relationship quiet for a bit didn’t seem so horrible. If it meant Anne and her adversaries had time to come to terms with everything that had transpired as a result of Josie Pye’s petulant outburst the day before, Gilbert would let her take all the time she needed. “Why don’t I talk to Winnie tomorrow to see what exactly people know?” he suggested. “In the meantime, I’d like to tell my parents about us if that’s alright with you.”

Anne squeezed his hand, amazed at how she ended up with such a considerate soulmate. “Good shout,” she agreed. “Tell them whatever you like. I suppose I should let my aunt know too.”

Gilbert beamed at Anne, noting how the sunset reflected brilliantly against the shine of her hair. If it had been a warmer evening, he might have suggested that they stay beneath their tree until dusk, but as it was still winter, darkness seemed to fall with more haste when the air was bitterly cold. If they didn’t leave now, they would never make it back to Green Gables before nightfall and Gilbert had no desire to try and navigate the icy slush in the dark.

He kept an arm around Anne as they walked together in companionable silence, Anne’s fingers intertwined with the hand that rested on her waist. Occasionally, she would turn toward him and press a light peck against his lips, for no other reason than because she finally could. It thrilled her to no end, knowing that all those months of regret and longing had not been in vain.

Darkness was on the horizon when they finally reached Green Gables’ front porch, but the light though the living room window provided the perfect amount of brightness for the pair to make it up the steps without slipping. Their shadows through the window drew Marilla’s attention. Looking up from her knitting, she saw her niece looking significantly happier than she had seen her in weeks and a boy who was looking at her as if she had hung the moon and the stars just for him. Setting her yarn aside, she poked her head out the front door and invited Gilbert to stay for supper.

“No thank you, Mrs. Cuthbert. As it is, my parents are probably starting to worry about where I am. I just wanted to make sure Anne got home okay. I’ll be leaving soon.”

“Very well. Another time then,” she replied politely before closing the door, leaving Anne and Gilbert to say their goodbyes in private.

“Hey, Anne, you don’t happen to have any plans tomorrow night, do you?”

Anne pretended to think, not wanting to seem over eager. “None that I can recall. I’ve got a few books that I’ve been meaning to start, so maybe I’ll get started on those.”

“Any chance you’d be willing to postpone your literary endeavours? I’d like to take you out, you know…would you like to have dinner with me?” Gilbert blushed shyly and it warmed Anne’s heart to no end.

Grinning, she answered, “Gilbert Blythe, I would _love_ to have dinner with you.”

Gilbert returned her smile fondly. “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty tomorrow then.” He leaned down to kiss her softly before pulling her into a hug. “Good night, Anne-girl.”

“Goodnight, Gil,” she replied and watched his retreating form until it was nothing more than a shadow before opening the door to go inside.

The very thought of going on a date with Gilbert, with her _soulmate_ —she was so in awe that Gilbert was her soulmate—caused the butterflies in her stomach to enter hyperdrive, but she was not the least bit bothered.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions Gilbert Blythe had caused her since that moment he tugged her braid in French class, Anne couldn’t have been happier that fate had chosen to force them together.

* * *

Diana was genuinely shocked to see Anne at school, and even more surprised by the return of her typically cheery demeanour. It was as if every trial and tribulation the girl had faced since the beginning of the school year had evaporated overnight. Most of it had in a sense. The stares and whispers had returned tenfold, but Anne found that she could not care less; at the end of the day, she had a soulmate who returned her feelings and a friend who would stand by her regardless of what others had to say. It would be nice if the other girls forgave her for not telling them about her mark and Anne still was not sure how to approach Josie, but after nearly eleven months to the day that she arrived in Canada, things were _finally_ beginning to fall into place.

Anne was noticeably distracted all morning, but not in a way that worried Diana. Instead, it appeared that she was back to daydreaming. Mr. Phillips’ admonishment didn’t even seem to faze the girl whose temper was well-known to match her hair.

Unlike Anne, Josie Pye had yet to return to school and there were rumours floating around that her parents had already made arrangements to send her away. Anne hoped that wasn’t true. While she was a bit upset at how Josie made a spectacle of her in front of at least half the school, Anne knew all too well what it was like to let one’s emotions take control of their actions. Besides, the girl’s outburst played an instrumental part in reuniting Anne with Gilbert, so she couldn’t truly be angry with her.

Josie’s absence proved beneficial for Anne, allowing her to explain everything to the girls who were sceptical at first.

“I wanted to tell you all when you came for tea,” she told them. “I wanted to tell you so badly and share the letter if you didn’t believe me.”

“Why didn’t you?” asked Jane. After Diana, she had always been the most rational member of their little group, Anne had decided.

“I was still processing it myself. And I had Josie to consider. She was already struggling so much over not getting her mark. As far as we all knew, I was never supposed to have a mark in the first place; it would have been devastating to her and probably would have ruined whatever semblance of friendship we had begun to build since I found out about her,” Anne explained as logically as she could.

The girls all nodded, touched by how considerate Anne was of the girl who had tried to prevent her from joining their friend group.

In no time, the atmosphere at their table returned to normal. As usual, Tilly was up to date on the latest rumours and she spared no detail. “Did you guys hear? Winnie and Gilbert aren’t soulmates,” she told them, forcing Anne to feign surprise.

“Really?” she asked. Gilbert had promised to sort things out with his “ex,” but Anne wasn’t expecting word to spread so quickly. Diana shot her a coy look as if to say _you two finally worked it out, didn’t you?_ which Anne chose to ignore.

“Ashley Thomas had Bio with them first period and she told me that they both had their sleeves rolled up and their marks are totally different. I should have known better than to believe anything Christina Lawrence says.”

“Ruby, you’re awfully quiet over there,” Jane piped up. “I thought you’d be more excited than this.”

Ruby blushed. “Oh, well I sort of have my eye on a different hockey boy now,” she told them all bashfully.

“About that, you and Moody Spurgeon looked awfully cosy at Charlie’s party last weekend,” Tilly added, causing the pink on the girl’s cheeks to darken. “I saw them just after you left, Jane.”

So Anne’s friends probably would not have a problem if she were to tell them about Gilbert. But she had made him promise that they would only tell their respective guardians for the time being and it wouldn’t be fair of her to tell them just yet after he had been more understanding than she deserved.

“Hey Anne,” Diana grabbed her attention. “Did you turn your ring over?” Suddenly four pairs of eyes were staring at Anne’s right hand where the heart was now upright, pointing toward her wrist. Anne flushed. _Of course_ this _is what they remember amongst everything they’ve asked me about my culture._ She nodded.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Diana asked excitedly.

Anne hoped that she wasn’t being too obvious when she replied, “If you think I’ve met my soulmate and that we’re together now, then yes.” A collective gasp (and excited squeal from Ruby) followed as all four girls stared at Anne, begging for more information. “But since everything’s so new, we’ve decided to keep things quiet for now, so I’m not telling you who he is.”

“You’re no fun,” Tilly pouted, frustrated that she was being denied what was sure to be the hottest piece of gossip all school year.

Before the girls could goad Anne into telling them the identity of her soulmate, the bell rang. _Saved by the bell. I’ve never loved a cliché more._ While the other girls dispersed, Diana followed Anne to her locker. “Do _I_ get details at least?” she asked.

“Oh Di, of course you do! Come home with me after school? Help me get ready for my date?” Anne was not prepared at all for the squeal Diana let out. Anne was certain that the girl had pieced everything together and Anne was simply dying to tell _someone_ about everything that had happened last night.

“Absolutely. And you’d better tell me _everything_.” After agreeing, the two parted ways.

As usual, Anne was one of the first to arrive to class, which meant that she had a few moments to read quietly.

Normally, it was Ms. Stacey’s vibrant presence that pulled her attention away from her books, but this time the pull came from a voice she had been longing to hear all day.

“Move, Gardner,” Gilbert said firmly, slipping between the boy and the seat he was about to take—the seat beside Anne. Realising that he had caught his soulmate’s attention, Gilbert smirked cheekily.

Neither Anne nor Gilbert paid any mind to Gardner’s disgruntled mumbling about “Blythe taking _my_ seat,” as they were locked in a playful staring contest. “Hello, Carrots,” he said just loud enough that only she could hear.

Anne rolled her eyes. If they wanted to keep their news a secret, it was going to be a long class.

* * *

“…and then he kissed me! Oh, Di, it was wonderful!” Anne gushed as Diana flipped through the hangers in her closet. Diana smiled sadly. She was genuinely pleased for her friend, but the thought that she may never get to meet her soulmate tugged at her heartstrings.

“It sounds it,” Diana agreed. “And you’re officially together now?”

Anne nodded, adding a, “Yes,” when she realised that Diana would not see with her back turned. “But I asked if we could keep our relationship a secret for now, so you can’t tell _anyone_.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Diana turned, removing a shirt from its hanger and tossing it at Anne. “Try this for me,” she told her. “Though I don’t understand why it has to be a secret. If I ever got the chance to meet my soulmate, I think I’d want the world to know,” she added sadly, causing Anne to look at her with sympathy in her eyes. How unfair was it that her dear bosom friend might never have the opportunity to meet her soulmate out of her own parents’ sheer bigotry? Was risking their social status that much more important than their daughter’s happiness? Just thinking about it made Anne’s blood boil, but there was little she could do at the moment.

“People have been staring at me and whispering behind my back since I arrived.” Diana made to say something, but Anne cut her off. “It’s fine, I’m used to it by now. But Gilbert’s the golden boy of Avonlea. The last thing I want to do is subject him to the judgement I’ve grown used to. Besides, up until this morning, the whole school thought that he and Winnie were soulmates.”

“Something tells me Gilbert wouldn’t care about any of that.”

“I don’t want him to have to deal with it at all, but I agreed that we could start telling people once the dust has settled on the rumours about him and Winnie.”

“Just don’t make him wait too long. You deserve acceptance just as much as any of us. Don’t let what others think get in the way of your happiness. That shirt is perfect by the way.” It was a loose-fitting blue and white chequered top with three small buttons at the top. The sleeves rolled up to three-quarter length and, secured by button loops of their own. “They go pair well with those jeans and your boots, too.”

“Are you sure this isn’t too casual?” Anne asked, concerned. “The last thing I want tonight is to be underdressed. Maybe I should wear a skirt?”

Diana chuckled. “It’s perfect for this time of year. What do you want the most then?” she asked teasingly, waggling her brow, causing Anne to blush.

Honestly, Anne wouldn’t be opposed to a repeat performance, but she wasn’t about to admit that out loud. Choosing to ignore Diana, she took her mother’s necklace from off the dresser. “Mind doing the clasp?” she asked Diana.

The two girls chatted animatedly as Diana helped Anne apply her makeup before heading home. As soon as Diana was down the path and out of sight, Anne’s excitement turned to nerves. Sure, she was looking forward to spending time alone with Gilbert after several months of self-inflicted radio silence, but the thought that Gilbert may have changed his mind was heart-breaking. Realistically, Anne knew she was being foolish—Gilbert had been the one to ask her out, not the other way around after all—but what if someone had noticed their interaction in English and said something to him? What if he had decided that she had too much of a temper? Glancing at the clock on her desk, she noticed that she had about fifteen minutes until Gilbert was due to arrive. Instead of worrying, she decided that her energy would be better put to use in other ways, so she made a grab for her journal.

_22 nd March 1996_

_Dear Gilbert, MY Gilbert,_

_I can’t believe I get to write that. In fact, I’m currently sitting in my bedroom in the East gable waiting for you to pick me up for our first date—how wonderful is that? Naturally, I’m terrified that this all might be a dream, that I’ll wake up and discover that while I indeed have a mark, it is entirely different from your own. Worse yet, I fear that the judgement our peers and their families have passed on me may be extended to you as well once they realise that their golden boy shares a soul mark with the resident foreigner. If you change your mind, I will not blame you, but I’ll be utterly devastated._

_I still can’t believe that of all the people that fate could have chosen for me, it’s you. Before I made a cow of myself at Diana’s party, I thought you to be my very best friend here. I hope that in time, our friendship will continue to develop as we explore this new uncharted territory._

_When you asked me to turn my ring over and proceeded to explain how you knew what it represented, I nearly melted on the spot. I am continuously blown away by how thoughtful and considerate of others you are._

_At this point, I am unsure if I will continue these letters as they were initially intended to fill the void I created when I pushed you away. Everything I’ve written in this journal thus far is what I’ve wished to say to you, but couldn’t. Either way, I suppose I’ve decided that I’ll let you read these letters someday, once we’ve healed from the hurt I managed to cause us both._

_Forever (and finally) Yours (I hope),  
_ _Anne_

_P.S. I think I just heard you knock at the front door. I am SO excited for this first date (and equally nervous)._

Anne returned her pen to its case and the journal to its drawer before shakily making her way toward the staircase, worried that in her nervous state, she would make a fool of herself and tumble down the steep set of steps. When she reached the top and saw Gilbert standing by the front door with Marilla, a small bouquet of sunflowers in hand, her worries dissipated.

She hadn’t realised she was grinning until Gilbert caught her eye and mirrored her expression.

Gilbert Blythe was standing in her foyer. Gilbert Blythe was standing in her foyer holding sunflowers— _how did he manage to get those in the middle of Winter?—_ for her. Gilbert Blythe was waiting to take her out on a date and she could not have been happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some fluff. Wow, was it difficult to transition to this after nearly 60,000 words of angst. I'd like to give a huge shoutout to Em (the_lazy_eye) for helping me edit the rough draft of their first kiss. I was having a lot of trouble shaking off the cobwebs in terms of writing fluffier bits. Em took my self criticism, added some of her own, and articulated where I needed to make improvements. It's also her birthday today, so happy birthday you wonderful human!
> 
> That being said, this was my first stab at writing fluff in a long while, so I am happy to field any constructive criticism so that my writing skills can continue to grow and develop.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	19. Chapter 18

Anne knew Gilbert well enough to know that he would be the type to bring her flowers, promise her guardians that he would have her home by curfew (midnight, Marilla had insisted while Anne rolled her eyes in embarrassment), and open the passenger door even though he was perfectly aware of how capable Anne was of doing things for herself. Nevertheless, it warmed her heart to know that Gilbert cared enough about her to play the role of dutiful boyfriend.

Gilbert even had the foresight to leave the Jeep running so that it would be warm for Anne who had adapted well enough to the Canadian winter, but still wasn’t fully used to the cold despite enduring several months of it. They sat in companionable, if not slightly awkward silence, as Gilbert reversed the car down Green Gables’ impossibly long drive. Once they were on the main road, Gilbert placed his hand palm side up on the centre console for Anne to take. She seemed to get the memo and laced her fingers through his, blushing ever so slightly when he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“How do you feel about Italian?” he asked, breaking the silence. “There’s a place in Charlottetown that I’d like to take you to. Unless you don’t like pasta. We could always try the new Chinese place or maybe the diner, though I don’t know if we’ll be able to get a table on a Friday night at such short notic—” Gilbert rambled nervously until Anne cut him off with a squeeze of the hand. His obvious nervousness helped put Anne at ease. It was strangely comforting and so incredibly endearing to know that he was as anxious as she was.

“Relax, Gil. The Italian restaurant sounds perfectly lovely.”

“Oh, good. I should have asked you before making a reservation though.” She could nearly hear the sigh of relief in his voice and it took all she had to keep from chuckling.

In no time, they were seated across from each other at a small, intimate table in the corner of a dimly lit Italian restaurant. Anne was grateful that Gilbert had the foresight to make a reservation when they had walked in to discover a crowded foyer, full of walk-ins hopeful to be seated in under an hour. Gilbert had merely walked up to the podium and given the hostess his name before they were seated. Their nerves had appeared to settle and were long forgotten by the time their waiter delivered their respective meals.

“Read anything good lately?” Gilbert asked between bites. He already knew the answer, but he could listen to Anne talk about books forever. She had such a way with words and whenever she was truly impassioned, her eyes gleamed in a way that accented her simplistic beauty.

Anne chuckled. “You know I’ve been reading _something_ ,” she replied before pausing to take a bite. “Miss Stacey recommended _Brave New World_ since I enjoyed _1984_ so much, but I haven’t quite taken a liking to it.”

“Oh?” Gilbert raised a brow, encouraging Anne to elaborate.

“Well, you know how I’m a fan of the classic romances?” Gilbert nodded. “This one’s similar to _1984_ in that it depicts a dystopian society, but there’s no romantical aspects whatsoever. In _1984,_ you have Winston and Julia develop this relationship that defies everything Big Brother stands for and, ultimately it leads to their respective downfalls, but it’s _something_.” She paused to take a sip of her water. “ _Brave New World_ has none of that. Babies are hatched, and basic human emotions are repressed by drugs.” She finished her rant and returned her attention to the plate of pasta marinara in front of her.

Gilbert was enamoured. Well, he was always enamoured with her but listening to her rant about literature—or anything else that struck her fancy—was something that he would never tire of.

“I never thought I’d see the day where Anne Shirley found a book she didn’t like,” he teased.

“Nor did I. Oh, Gil, it’s absolutely terrible. It’s such a loveless society. The characters engage in orgies and there’s absolutely no emotion attached—it’s just a means for them to feel good.” Turns out, she was not finished ranting about the first book she truly detested. “Like, when we kissed beneath our tree last night, that felt good but so much of that was because it meant something…” she trailed off, realising what she had just said. Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. _Now you’ve gone and done it._

“Gilbert, I—” she began, but he cut her off reaching across the small table to squeeze her hand.

“Don’t,” he reassured her. “I feel the same way. Yesterday meant _everything_ , Anne-girl.” Anne shot him a relaxed smile. Gilbert was secretly glad that her blush didn’t fade; it was adorable how shy she could be all of a sudden despite how outspoken she normally was. It was as if he got to see a whole other side to her now. There were two versions of the redhead; Anne and _his Anne._ One and the same, he knew that the recent shyness was something reserved only for him and knowing that made his heart soar.

While many of Gilbert’s peers had chosen to date around before receiving their marks, he had refrained. He certainly had his opportunities though. It was no secret that the vast majority of girls his age found him stunningly attractive, but he couldn’t care less. The notion of getting to experience each and every awkward first with his soulmate was something that he had looked forward to…until he met Anne. He was prepared to throw his plans out the window once she entered his life. When she had rejected him all those months ago, he had been devastated, but she had rejected him for the very reasons he had chosen to remain single throughout high school. It was oh so very fitting that the girl who shared such romantic ideals would turn out to be his soulmate in the end.

Later, after plates were cleared, a slice of tiramisu was shared between them, and Gilbert settled the bill—which, to Anne’s chagrin, he refused to split—the two walked down the dimly lit streets of Charlottetown toward Gilbert’s car, the night air bringing with it a bitter coldness which made the walk seem twice as long as it had earlier.

Gilbert was not about to complain, however. The cold air brought out that rosy hue in Anne’s cheeks that paired beautifully with the light auburn of her hair and the delicate tones of green in her eyes. She looked enchanting, ethereal beneath the yellow glow of the street lamps and Gilbert couldn’t overcome his desire to kiss her, so he did. Pausing just before a crosswalk, Anne thought he was just looking both ways but suddenly a gloved hand was cupping her cheek and his lips were ghosting over hers ever so gently. Anne was stunned at how such a simple gesture made her feel so warm and safe.

As they approached the car, Anne couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that their date was ending. If they had merely managed to repair their friendship, she knew that she would have wanted to spend a great deal of time catching up with him, but now that they were officially together, she wanted to spend every waking moment in his company.

Anne was unsure if Gilbert had somehow managed to read her mind, but the words that came out of his mouth as soon as he closed his door confirmed that he shared her sentiments. “I thought we could catch a movie after dinner, but it doesn’t look like anything good is playing here or in Avonlea. If you’d like, we could go back to my house and watch something there instead,” Gilbert suggested apprehensively. “Or,” he added, “I could drop you back at Green Gables if you’re prefer.”

Anne’s heart melted. How could Gilbert be confident enough to steal kisses below the streetlamps, yet get so nervous over the idea that she might want to cut their date short—especially when the first option most definitely meant she would get to curl up against him. Perhaps she could even convince him of a repeat performance of the kisses they’d shared beneath _their_ tree.

“Let’s go to yours if you don’t mind,” said Anne softly.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Gilbert turned into his driveway and Anne reluctantly let go of his hand so that he could put the vehicle in park. The porch light was on, but fresh tire tracks in the snow and dark windows indicated that Mr. and Mrs. Blythe weren’t home. Suddenly, Anne found herself feeling nervous again. Sure, she had spent time there with Gilbert while his parents weren’t home, but that was before. Now, she couldn’t help but worry that Gilbert might be expecting more than she was ready for.

“Mum and Dad went to visit some friends, but should be back soon. I promised them that we would stay downstairs. I hope that’s alright.”

Anne truly hoped that Gilbert didn’t hear her breathe the sigh of relief that escaped her lips. She knew that she really liked the boy, maybe even loved him, but she had only just experienced her first kiss barely twenty-four hours ago. Nodding, she accepted Gilbert’s hand when he opened the car door for her. Leading Anne inside, Gilbert switched on the hall light as soon as he opened the front door. Anne was instantly hit with a comforting warmth when she stepped inside. Although the walk from the car was very short, the wind chill still seemed to penetrate her bones no matter how many layers she wore.

Leading Anne into the kitchen, Gilbert discovered found everything they might need sprawled out on the kitchen island. There was a pair of mugs, hot cocoa packets, mini marshmallows, and microwave popcorn, and a large plastic bowl waiting for them. “Looks like Mum thought of everything,” said Gilbert thoughtfully before setting to work grabbing milk from the refrigerator to heat in a saucepan over the stove. Once the milk was taken care of, he unwrapped the popcorn and put it in the microwave.

“Anne-girl, would you mind watching the milk to make sure it boils but doesn’t burn? I need to run upstairs and grab something quick.”

Anne smiled at the use of the nickname only he ever called her before agreeing to take over snack prep. It didn’t take long for the milk to boil and by the time Gilbert returned, Anne was carefully pouring it into the mugs. Gilbert crept up behind her and placed a soft kiss to her cheek before offering to resume the task of making hot chocolate.

“It gets cold in the living room because the sofa’s in front of the windows, so I went to get us a blanket,” he explained. “I’ll trade you.” He held out a folded sweatshirt which Anne took tentatively in exchange for the spoon she had been using to stir in the mix.

“And before you ask,” he began sheepishly, “it’s not the spare one I lent to Winnie that one time.” Anne examined the fabric in her hands. The deep green material was soft and clearly well-worn. The logo on the front appeared to be fading from age and use. “It’s one of my favourites. You can wear it if you’d like,” he added, blushing.

Unfolding it, Anne discovered what used to be Avonlea High’s old hockey logo before the team got their current uniforms. Turning it over, Anne was pleased to find that BLYTHE was printed boldly across the back from shoulder-to-shoulder above a large number 9. Slipping the garment on over her head was strangely satisfying given how not even a week ago, seeing Winnifred wearing the exact same name and number across her back had caused such anguish.

The sweatshirt didn’t quite hang to Anne’s knees, but it was big on her in a cosy sort of way. The sleeves bunched at the elbows lest they hang down beyond her fingertips and it smelled—in Anne’s opinion—incredible, like fresh laundry and a scent that was entirely Gilbert’s own. She knew, without a doubt, that he would never be getting this one back.

Gilbert, on the other hand, couldn’t get over how cute Anne looked as his sweatshirt swallowed her small frame. Given the look in her eye, he suspected that this would be the first of many articles of his clothing that she would steal in the coming years, and the idea thrilled him as it reminded the boy that he was finally hers.

As soon as they had everything they needed, the new couple carried their snack into the Blythe’s living room and set it on the coffee table before selecting a VHS tape from the cabinet beneath the television. After much back and forth, they decided on the _Little Mermaid_. “She’s my favourite princess!” Gilbert had used to convince Anne, who wanted to watch _The Secret Garden_ because she had loved the book and had yet to see the film. However, she decided, it was for the best that they were watching something they had both seen before, because her mind was anywhere but on the screen once they had settled on the couch.

Gilbert was sat at one end of the couch with Anne curled into his side. Feet tucked beneath her, Anne’s head rested in the crook of Gilbert’s neck while his arm was wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Suddenly, Anne was hyperaware of how close they were to one another and it appeared that Gilbert did as well.

Anne felt Gilbert press his lips to the top of her head and shifted her position to place a gentle kiss at the apex of his neck, just beneath the jawline. Neither was sure which one initiated the kiss first this time, but it started out as a sweet exchange of light pecks that swiftly turned heated.

Gilbert pulled Anne’s legs from beneath her—sending the blanket to the floor in the process—so that they sprawled across his lap, resting one arm across her thighs. The arm that was around her shoulders moved lower and his hand settled in the middle of her back while Anne locked her arms around the back of his neck. This time, it was Anne who slowly coaxed Gilbert’s mouth open, experimentally slipping the tip of her tongue inside. As their tongues tangled together, Anne could taste the chocolate from his drink, which now sat cold and forgotten beside hers. Gilbert seemed to be enjoying himself well enough by the way his breath hitched and the grip on her legs tightened.

When they broke apart, breathing laboured, Anne nuzzled into his neck much like she had the night before. Something about the warmth of his skin pressed against her cheek felt inviting and safe. As she felt his chin rest atop her head, Anne snuggled in closer, content to simply breathe in his scent and revel in contentment. “God, we are such a cliché,” she whispered against his skin, causing him to chuckle.

“I can’t seem to find it in myself to care, but if I’m going to be a cliché, at least I get to be one with you.” He pressed another kiss to her crown, causing the butterflies in Anne’s stomach to let loose as she was overwhelmed with affection for her boy.

Neither Anne nor Gilbert was willing to relent their closeness, so they stayed in that position for a while, exchanging the occasional lazy kiss as they simply enjoyed their time alone together. The blanket Gilbert oft wrapped up in while watching television alone sat pooled in a pile on the carpet beneath them as their combined body heat radiated enough warmth.

Ariel was just about to get her voice back when the porch light flickered on. The sound of a key jiggling in the lock caused Anne and Gilbert to spring apart and resume their earlier position, seated side-by-side with Gilbert’s arm around Anne’s shoulders. Both were blushing furiously at the idea of his parents walking in to find them snuggled together as they had been.

If Mr. and Mrs. Blythe suspected anything when they poked their heads into the living room, they didn’t say. Anne was grateful that the only light came from a dimly lit lamp on the other side of the room and the glow of the TV for masking the overly pink tinge of her cheeks.

After exchanging pleasantries with Anne, the Blythes informed their son that they were going up to bed and bid Anne farewell, offering to pick her up on their way to Gilbert’s game tomorrow.

As they heard the sound of soft footsteps on the stairs, Gilbert turned to Anne, who was stifling a yawn. “I should probably get you home now,” he told her adding, “stay on your aunt’s good side and all that,” teasingly.

“Yeah,” Anne sighed, noting that it was just going on eleven. “A whole hour early will surely impress her.” She stood and followed Gilbert to the front hallway so they could retrieve their shoes and jackets. Anne made to pull off the hoodie, but Gilbert stopped her.

“Don’t,” he said softly, holding up a hand. “It looks good on you. Besides, you’ll need something to wear to the game tomorrow, right?” Anne smiled shyly, thrilled that he wanted her to keep it. Little did Anne know, the idea of seeing her wearing his hoodie in the stands the next day made Gilbert even more excited for the championship than he already was.

The drive to Green Gables was impossibly short. Gilbert hummed along to a song playing softly on the radio that Anne had never heard before, but sounded like it might be Oasis. When the car came to a stop in front of Green Gables, Gilbert unbuckled and opened his own door to Anne’s protest.

“Anne-girl, I know you’re more than capable of walking yourself, but let me this time, please,” he pleaded. “What would your aunt think of me if she saw you walking to the porch alone?”

His question seemed to resonate well with Anne, who took his hand for the brief walk. Marilla had left the porch light on and while Anne worried that it meant her aunt might be watching from the window, she didn’t object when Gilbert kissed her softly.

“Good night, Gil,” she whispered softly, lips mere inches from his own as they reluctantly broke apart. “Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you after the game.” He stepped back toward the porch steps, calling over his shoulder, “Goodnight, Carrots!” Anne could hear the teasing tone in his voice and rolled her eyes.

As far as first dates go, Anne decided that this one was much better than anything she could have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter of pure fluff which is the sort of writing that I'm weakest at so if anyone has any advice/criticisms, please please pleaseee drop them in the comments and I will be eternally grateful.
> 
> This was meant to have a third, way less fluffy part but the end of the date seemed like a better stopping point. I apologise in advance, but my next update may take a bit longer than usual because I have a lot going on in these next two weeks.
> 
> Also, a reminder that I am now on Twitter as @h0lyheadharpies and post status updates there. If you haven't joined the AWAE/AOGG fandom on Twitter, I highly recommend because everyone I've encountered is so, so lovely.
> 
> Again, thanks for reading! Hope you didn't hate this one.
> 
> Side note: if you’ve noticed that there’s now a series title linked to this fic it’s because there’s going to be at least two sequels with a tentative third (unless my outlines drastically change).


	20. Chapter 19

Anne worried that travelling to Charlottetown with her boyfriend’s parents without Gilbert would be a bit awkward. Whether she had intended to or not, Anne had messed Gilbert about pretty badly and his parents were bound to know something. How else could Gilbert have explained the redhead’s sudden absence to them? Nevertheless, John and Elise were pleasant as ever and spoke to her with the same kindness they had back when she and Gilbert were just study partners. If they bore any ill will toward her, they certainly didn’t show it—for which Anne was grateful. Anne’s temper would always be one of her biggest faults and paired with a determined stubbornness, she knew that she likely would not have been so forgiving if the tables were turned.

The older couple chatted amicably with Anne, who sat in the back seat of the familiar Jeep, animatedly as they endured the forty-minute drive toward the Charlottetown Civic Centre where the championship game was being held. They even insisted on buying Anne a hot chocolate at Tim Hortons when they stopped “just in case there’s no concessions at the game” along the way.

When they arrived at the arena, Anne was pleased to discover that the seats were much warmer than the local rink in Avonlea, which meant that she wouldn’t have to cover up the hoodie—which she wore proudly—with her jacket to keep from freezing.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wear his away jersey instead, dear?” Elise Blythe asked once they took their seats, on the corner glass where Avonlea would shoot twice. John had insisted that low in the corner gave the best view and he knew far better than Anne or any of her friends for that matter.

“No thank you,” Anne replied politely. “You’ve been watching him play since he was small. We’ve only known each other since September. If anyone deserves to wear it to his final game, it’s you.” _Besides,_ she added in her head, _this hoodie is too comfortable to part with._

Elise seemed to appreciate that answer because she dropped the subject, smiling at the girl whose attention had turned to the ice where both teams were making their entrance. Gilbert, as captain, was last to step on the ice and Anne spotted him instantly. As he made his first warmup lap, Anne watched him take in the atmosphere one last time. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like to go into something big, knowing that it was the last time. Every one of her lasts had come suddenly and unexpected; using her newly learned ability to wave as her parents left for a conference they never would return from, missing the 15:30 bus and running down the street to make it home on time, saying goodbye to Mrs. Brady—every ending had been abrupt, something Anne had been thrust into unwillingly and unprepared and, while she had managed to land on her feet each time, it didn’t make the loss any easier. Gilbert was experiencing his final moments going into a game that he had been playing for as long as he could remember.

Anne managed to catch his eye on his second lap and mouthed “good luck,” causing Gilbert to grin. It was comforting to him, to know that she would be there afterward, proud of him no matter what the score line was at the end of the game. However, he wanted this win more than anything—well, more than _almost_ anything, but since he already managed to get the girl…

Just like the week before, the atmosphere was tense. The arena was quiet as the spectators watched on, waiting for the opposing team to make a mistake. When Souris scored the first goal, Anne could have sworn that her stomach dropped but if anything, the setback appeared to light a fire under the Avonlea boys. Minutes later, Gilbert found Charlie Sloane on the backdoor and the game was tied.

As the game went on, neither team was willing to relent. If Anne had thought the semifinal was physical, the championship had taken that physicality to a whole new level. Sitting on a corner so close to the glass meant that Anne got a front row seat to some of the hardest hits. She gasped as one of the Souris players sent an Avonlea defenseman into the wall directly in front of her, watching the boards shake as the boy crumpled to the ice below. With one defenseman out of position, Souris was better able to go on the attack and buried the puck in the net.

From that point on, the tension was increased tenfold. By the start of the third period, Avonlea’s fans were all on edge. Their team was down by one goal and if they failed to produce, Souris would be taking the trophy home. Souris had a strong game plan. Their coach appeared to have identified Gilbert as a threat because he had a player on him constantly, preventing him from having the space he needed to properly attack their net. However, Gilbert was as smart as he was talented, and he managed to create enough traffic in front of the Souris net that their goaltender never saw the defenseman’s shot coming in from the point. Avonlea had tied the game!

“What happens if it ends in a draw?” Anne had asked the Blythes.

“Sudden death overtime. Whoever scores first wins.”

Sure enough, when the horn sounded at the end of the period, the score was tied 2-2. Anne couldn’t believe how nervous she felt, and she knew that Gilbert’s nerves must have been tenfold. She wanted him to get this last win so badly. He was an accomplished athlete and captain; he deserved a proper send off.

The arena was silent as the referee dropped the puck at centre ice for the final time. If the atmosphere had been tense in regulation, it was nothing compared to overtime. With one goal determining the provincial champions, the stakes had been raised significantly.

Anne knew that she would be proud of her boyfriend no matter the outcome, but with each shot Souris placed on net, she could feel her heart practically stop. Minutes went by with neither team succeeding in finding the back of the other one’s net. Avonlea was beginning to flag as the Souris boys pressed on, spending most of the time attacking the Avonlea net. Anne watched on as one of the Souris boys sprinted toward the net, losing his footing in the process and tumbling into Avonlea’s goaltender, knocking him off his feet. Time seemed to stand still as the Souris defenseman took the opportunity to send a slapshot sailing over the top of the goalie, sinking the puck into the netting behind him. Avonlea’s side of the arena went silent. Anne’s heart sunk. Gilbert was going to be _so_ disappointed. Even though he hadn’t really let on, Anne knew that this game was so incredibly important to him.

“No goal!” John Blythe’s voice shook Anne from her thoughts and she looked up to see Gilbert and the other team’s captain standing beside the scorebox with a referee who was making an “X” motion parallel to the ice.

“What does this mean?” Anne asked, feeling quite silly. Obviously “no goal” meant that the goal had not counted, but relatively new to the sport, Anne couldn’t comprehend why.

“Goaltender interference, dear,” Mrs. Blythe explained. “The other team can’t prevent a goalie from moving to make a save.” Anne felt a wave of relief wash over her, renewed excitement buzzing in her veins.

It appeared that one of the two teams must have requested a time out, because both were huddled around their respective benches while the linesman stood beside the puck at one of the neutral zone faceoff dots near Avonlea’s end. Anne watched as the two teams resumed their places only Avonlea appeared to be trying something new.

Gilbert, who normally took the faceoff whenever he was on the ice, was positioned near the opposite dot. Instead of two defensemen standing diagonally behind the centre, there was only one. By the time Souris caught on to this change, it was too late. Avonlea had won the draw and the defenseman had found Gilbert, who managed to get behind the opposing team. Moving at full speed, he was too far gone for anyone to catch him.

Anne was on the edge of her seat as Gilbert shot the puck and she could have sworn that the goalie had made the save if only John Blythe hadn’t insisted that they sit along the goal line where they had the perfect view of the puck trickling between the goaltender’s legs and across the line. Avonlea had won!

Anne was to her feet instantly, along with the Blythes, cheering in celebration. Gilbert caught her eye and she flashed him a proud grin, watching as he was tackled by his teammates, buried beneath the group of boys as they piled on top of one another.

The award presentation seemed to take ages, but Anne beamed with pride the entire time as she watched Gilbert accept the offensive player MVP and eventually the championship cup.

“Let’s go down to the ice so we can get some photos with him,” Mrs. Blythe told her.

When they reached the doors to the ice surface, Anne was hesitant. Aware of how slippery the surface could be, she wanted to make sure that she didn’t fall, lest she draw attention to herself. It was no use, however, because as soon as Gilbert saw, he skated right over to her and wrapped her in his arms. Lifting her feet off the ground, he kissed her passionately.

At first, all Anne could focus on was the sensation of Gilbert’s lips against hers, the pride and excitement and joy which she felt for him. However, the couple was brought out of their bubble by the whistling and catcalls from some of Gilbert’s teammates.

“So much for keeping us a secret,” Anne teased, blushing scarlet. She was unable to find it in herself to feel upset or worried.

Gilbert shrugged sheepishly. “They were going to find out eventually. At least this way, I get to take the most beautiful girl in Avonlea to the celebratory party tonight.” Anne whacked his arm teasing.

“Are you two ready for photos?” asked Mrs. Blythe. They looked at each other and nodded.

The camera was shuffled around as photos were taken of Anne with Gilbert, Mrs. Blythe with Gilbert, Mr. Blythe with Gilbert, Gilbert with both parents, and—at Mrs. Blythe’s insistence and with the help of a teammate’s mother—all three of the Blythes with Anne. When Elise had taken her camera back and commented that if it turned out well, the photo of the four of them just might be the next Christmas card sorted, Anne blushed, secretly filled with joy. At sixteen, the idea of being regarded as a permanent fixture should have been terrifying, but if there was one thing that Anne was certain of, it was that she wanted Gilbert around for as long as he was willing to be there.

Once they had finished taking photos, Gilbert bade his family goodbye. With a kiss to her cheek Gilbert promised Anne he would see her later that night and skated off to the locker room to spend the final hours of his high school hockey career celebrating with the rest of the team.

* * *

“You have to wear a different top!” Ruby insisted. “Now that it’s public knowledge that you and Gilbert are together, you simply _have_ to show off your mark.”

The girls were at Diana’s, getting ready to go to another party at Charlie Sloane’s. The girls, who had also been at the game, had already heard rumours about Anne and Gilbert’s relatively public display of affection and had bombarded her with questions when she finally arrived. Anne had regaled every last detail, finding that she didn’t mind that her relationship had become public knowledge. If anything, it was a relief to know that she wouldn’t have to keep avoiding Gilbert in front of others. The past week alone had been a frustrating challenge.

Diana and Jane were in agreement with Ruby and Anne could not find any reason to object. She had found her soulmate. Why should she hide her mark? Especially when said soulmate was someone she was incredibly proud to be with. So she let the girls select a three-quarter sleeve top for her and listened as they gushed about their own prospects—even Diana seemed hopeful—since their birthdays all fell between April and June.

“Oh it’s so romantic!” Ruby gushed, clutching her hands to her heart. “To have such a tragic past only to unexpectedly find true love on an island that is so unaccepting of outsiders…and your soulmate happens to be one of the most handsome boys in Avonlea!” Anne blushed at Ruby’s mention of love. She knew she well and truly fancied Gilbert, but love? She supposed if she were to fall in love with anyone it would be him. And since he was her soulmate, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

“You’re sure you aren’t cross with me, Rubes? You fancied the pants off him for so long.”

“Absolutely not! I’m actually meant to meet up with Moody Spurgeon-MacPherson when we get to Charlie’s.” Now it was her turn to blush, a delicate pink that Anne could only be envious of. “I think I might how did you put it...fancy the pants off him. Have I ever told you how adorable your little Irish phrases are by the way?”

“They really are endearing,” Diana concurred. Jane and Tillie nodded in agreement.

The girls continued to chat animatedly as they finished getting ready and soon enough, it was time for them to make the short trek from the Barrys’ to the Sloanes’ house. Suddenly, Anne found herself feeling quite nervous. She was looking forward to spending more time with Gilbert, but now that his entire team knew about them. The way news travelled in Avonlea, most of the school would probably know by the time they arrived.

Gilbert was waiting by the bottom of the Sloanes’ driveway when the girls finally arrived. He looked as if he had been waiting there a while, his cheeks pink from the cold, curls slightly windswept. However, he didn’t seem to mind one bit as he broke into a smile as soon as Anne saw him.

“Ladies,” he greeted Anne’s friends kindly—causing Ruby and Tillie to burst into giggles—before turning his attention solely to her. “Anne-girl,” he added softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek—which caused her face to turn scarlet as the girls’ giggles persisted—and linking their fingers together.

“Hi,” Anne replied shyly. Although her friends’ reactions to seeing them together caused her to roll her eyes, they were oddly reassuring that it mightn’t be too bad that their schoolmates found out about her relationship with Gilbert. His fingers were cold against hers, but a solid reminder that she wasn’t alone in all of this. The more time she spent in Gilbert’s presence, the less she minded who knew that they were soulmates.

It appeared that Gilbert had a similar mindset to Anne’s friends when it came to showing off his mark. As soon as they shed their coats at the door, he rolled the sleeves of his buffalo-plaid flannel shirt to his elbows, leaving his mark full on display, bold lines contrasting against his winter-paled skin. Seeing the mark sent electricity coursing through Anne’s veins. It was something she thought she would never tire of, even after the novelty of their relationship wore off. The girls scurried off toward the kitchen—in search of alcohol, no doubt—but Anne felt no need to follow them, especially when Gilbert looked at her with those big hazel eyes.

“Ready?” he asked.

Anne nodded, allowing him to take her hand and lead her into the buzz of the party. They joined some of Gilbert’s teammates, who were sitting in a corner of the noisy living room. Along the way, several people—with whom neither Anne nor Gilbert were well acquainted with—stopped the hockey captain to congratulate him on the big win. Anne’s heart swelled with pride at how humble Gilbert’s responses were despite being named an MVP. When they finally reached the group, Anne noticed that Ruby was seated on the floor beside Moody, staring at the boy in wonder. Anne sincerely hoped that her feelings were returned, and not just because she had some lingering guilt regarding the girl’s crush on Gilbert. Ruby was a gentle soul and truly deserved someone who would treat her with the kindness she showed to others.

Gilbert plopped onto the only open seat on one of the couches. Anne was content to sit on the arm, but Gilbert had other plans and pulled her into his lap, wrapping one arm against her waist to the catcalls of his closest friends. Anne blushed a deep red—something that seemed to be happening quite a bit today, she noted—but was content to keep close to her boyfriend. Despite the noise and activity of the party around them, Gilbert’s group of friends didn’t move from their spot all evening, sipping beers, laughing and joking together, enjoying their last moments as teammates. Anne was positively overwhelmed by how welcoming they were toward her, paying no mind to the very public display of affection the new couple had shared earlier that day. were funny—especially Charlie and Moody—and Anne couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so much. It was a far cry from her first experience at an Avonlea house party. No one was staring at her, nor were they whispering. And if they were? Anne was too busy laughing at Charlie’s jokes and snuggling against Gilbert’s shoulder to notice.

The stares and whispers resumed when Anne and Gilbert arrived at school holding hands on Monday morning, but for the first time, Anne honestly didn’t care. The gossips could say she didn’t belong all they wanted; she knew the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologise for the delay in updating...I try to write/update as quickly as possible but I was much busier than usual in these past two weeks and barely had time to check my email. I'm not entirely pleased with this one, but it was always intended to be somewhat of a filler as we begin to approach the end of this one. As sad as I will be to wrap this up, I'm excited to get working on the sequel. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Feel free to interact with me on Twitter @h0lyheadharpies. I often post status updates there.


	21. Chapter 20

With her own anxieties about the students of Avonlea discovering her soul mark and relationship status behind her, Anne was finally able to turn her attentions toward the trials and tribulations of her friends. A week after Josie’s outburst, the blonde girl had yet to return to school. According to Tillie and Jane, she was also refusing to return their calls. Through no fault of her own—Diana and Gilbert both assured her—Anne couldn’t help but blame herself for the predicament that her tormentor-turned-friend was facing. The letter Anne had written for Josie remained folded in her backpack, awaiting the day when Anne could deliver it in person. However, as it appeared that Josie wouldn’t be returning to school anytime in the near future, Anne decided that she would take matters into her own hands.

After an agonisingly long newspaper meeting where Anne’s friends all volunteered her to interview a few of the hockey players about their win—their giggles anything but subtle, leaving Anne beet red and distracted—she was on her way to the Pye residence. If Anne had been uneasy staring up at the intimidating building the first time she had gone to check on Josie, it certainly didn’t compare to the nerves that were coursing through her this time. What if Josie refused to see her? Anne couldn’t blame the girl if she did. If it weren’t for the unexpected arrival of Anne’s soul mark, Josie’s lack of one would have remained a secret. At the very least, Anne hoped that Josie would be willing to read her letter.

After ringing the doorbell, Anne stood on the Pyes’ front porch, nervous and unaware of what was awaiting her on the other side. A cool breeze picked up as she waited for what seemed like hours and Anne was contemplating slipping her letter into the post box on the front railing when the heavy oak door creaked open, startling her.

Mrs. Pye stood before Anne, her gaze scrutinising as she gave the teen a once-over. “What is it now? Haven’t you caused my family enough trouble?” she asked, exasperated and rolling her eyes in a manner that was all Josie— _so that’s where she gets it,_ Anne thought, noting the uncanny resemblance between mother and daughter’s mannerisms. “Well…” the woman added impatiently, moving to close the door.

“Mrs. Pye, wait! I never meant Josie any trouble. I even tried to keep my own mark hidden for her sake. I just want to make sure she’s alright is all. I imagine she could use a friend about now.”

“What makes you think my daughter will even want to see you?”

“Nothing really, but I think I might be able to help. I do know what it’s like to feel alienated by your peers after all.” Mrs. Pye scoffed at that, as if she wished to say that no one could ever alienate her precious Josie. However, with a stern glare, she eventually relented.

“Fine. Josie’s in her room, but if she doesn’t want to see you, you’re to leave immediately. I won’t have you upsetting my daughter more than this whole _situation_ already has.”

“Thank you, really.” Anne shot the woman a soft smile before stepping through the open door and making her way up the nearby staircase as she had the last time. Josie’s door was shut again, and Anne was struck with a sense of deja-vu as she gently rasped her knuckles against the dark wood.

“Mother, will you just leave me alone? I’m not finished packing yet!” Josie shouted from inside the room. _Packing?_ Anne raised a brow, making a mental note to ask the blonde about that.

“Josie, it’s Anne. May I come in?” There was a long pause as though Josie was contemplating ignoring Anne outright. Just as Anne was about to slip her letter under the door and be on her way, Josie finally spoke up.

“Come in, I guess.”  
  
Anne opened the door hesitantly, surprised by the sight that met her. She had only been inside the room once before, but even she could tell how drastically different it looked. Walls that had once been adorned with posters and photographs were bare, as were Josie’s desk and the top of her dresser. The closet door was only half open, but Anne guessed that it, too, was empty. Josie was sat on the floor by the foot of her unmade bed—the only indicator that someone actually occupied the space—surrounded by cardboard boxes. Anne simply stood in the doorway, unsure whether or not to breach the space.

“Are you moving?”

“Obviously.” Josie rolled her eyes in admonishment. “What do you want?”

“To make sure you’re doing alright…and to give you this.” She stepped into the room and walked over to where Josie was sat, handing her the envelope. “I wasn’t sure if you would be willing to speak to me, but I hoped you would. In any case, I figured I might as well write things down in case you turned me away.”

“Do I look alright? Does this room look alright? I was just humiliated in front of nearly every single person I know, and my parents are about to ship me off to live with their friends in Montreal, so no, I’m not alright!” Josie’s voice grew louder with each word until she was shouting at Anne, who continued to look at the girl with sympathy in her eyes.

This was precisely why Anne had tried to keep her mark concealed. If only she had done a better job of things, this never would have happened.

“Josie, I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve any of this.”

“That’s rich coming from you! No one ever would have found out if it weren’t for _you._ I bet you’re loving this, aren’t you? Perfect little Anne has a soul mark and Josie Pye doesn’t…serves her right for being such a bitch!” Josie sneered.

Anne took a deep breath, trying to control her temper. Lashing out would do her no good and for once, the redhead seemed to rationalise that enough to rein herself in. “Look, Josie, I will admit that you were a bit of a…a bit of a cow to me when we first met, but that doesn’t mean I was ever planning to share your secret. What is or isn’t on your wrist is yours and yours alone. I planned to keep my own mark a secret and no one would have found out if _you_ hadn’t shouted at me over it. I’m sorry you’re hurting and I’m sorry that people on this island put so much stock into a tattoo on your wrist, but I won’t apologise for having a mark of my own or for betraying your trust because a) that would be like apologising for having red hair and b) I never lied to you.”

“Why are you even here?”

“I thought you might be able to use a friend, but I guess I was wrong. Good luck in Montreal. If you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.” Anne took a few steps backward. “I’ll see myself out now.”

As she walked away from the large house—possibly for the last time ever—Anne didn’t look back. She wasn’t sure if she and Josie would ever be friends, _could_ ever be friends, but Anne had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last she heard of Josie Pye.

* * *

“Gilbert, focus please,” Anne begged her boyfriend who seemed more interested in playing with her hair than answering her questions. “The sooner we finish this interview, the sooner I finish my article. It’s not supposed to rain again until next week and I’d like to have time to read amongst the trees this weekend.”

They were sat on the Blythe’s living room couch after school the next afternoon, various pieces of schoolwork scattered across the coffee table, all completed aside from Anne’s newspaper assignment. The beginning of April had brought sunshine warm enough to melt the snow and Anne would have much preferred to have been conducting her interview beneath their tree if only the crisp blanket of snow hadn’t been replaced by thick pools of mud.

“Okay, okay!” Gilbert held up his hands in surrender, but not before tucking the strands he had been playing with behind Anne’s ear. “I’ll be good, I promise.” Anne rolled her eyes, not sure whether to believe him or not.

“Alright, first question: Both of Avonlea’s goals during regulation play were scored coming from behind. Was there ever a moment where you began to lose hope?”

“Hmmm.” Gilbert stared at Anne thoughtfully for a moment before articulating. “I know there were a lot of pre-game jitters in the locker room. We all wanted to win so badly. Nobody was too shaken when Souris scored their first goal, but the mood on the bench definitely changed when they went up 2-1 on us. Thankfully, we had that time between periods to regroup and we started that third period with a fire lit under us. There were definitely a lot of ups and downs in that game, but the win was within our reach the entire time, so I don’t think anyone really lost hope, no.”

Anne wrote furiously, doing her best to keep up with Gilbert. When she was finished writing, she moved on to her next question. “Souris scored first in overtime. What did it feel like in the split second before the referee disallowed the goal?” She looked sideways at him. “And would you mind speaking a bit slower this time, Gil? I don’t want to accidentally misquote you.”

“I can’t speak for the team personally, but for me, it was like time just stopped. I was in shock. Then the ref was waving it off and I think that was just the spark we needed because we scored right off the next faceoff play,” Gilbert mused.

“Right. And you were the one to score that game-winning overtime goal and you were also named Offensive MVP. What was that like?”

Gilbert smirked, and Anne hoped that meant he wasn’t going to play the humble card again. “Coach put me in a different position on the draw because I’m fast and it paid off. As soon as the puck was on my stick, it felt like it was my duty to lead the team to victory…it helps that Charlie won the draw and Jack made a really nice pass.” He paused for a moment to allow Anne to write down the quote. When she finally began to slow down, he continued, “As for MVP, that award could have gone to anyone but winning the cup and being recognised for my play in front of my parents and my soulmate,” he paused to kiss her cheek, “was really special.” Instead of waiting for her next question, Gilbert reached a hand up to cup her other cheek, pulling her into a tender, heart-melting kiss that Anne couldn’t resist giving into if she tried. She might be determined and stubborn, but Gilbert had been so patient in answering each question and, honestly, she had very little left to ask him anyway.

“I hope you don’t kiss all the journalists like that,” Anne teased once they had settled down and separated.

“Only the cute ones,” Gilbert teased, causing Anne to swat at his arm. “Now, Miss Shirley, do you have any more questions for me or am I free to watch a movie with my girlfriend?”

“Just one more and we’ll be finished.”

“Shoot,” Gilbert told Anne, eager to spend the rest of the afternoon with the redhead in his arms.

“You’re graduating this spring. Any idea what’s next for you?” Grey-green eyes bore into hazel ones as she pressed the tip of her pen against her lip, waiting for Gilbert’s answer.

“Well, as you know, I want to study medicine.” Anne nodded. “I’ve been accepted to a handful of programs at universities in Canada and the UK. I’m just trying to decide which one is the right fit.”  
  
Anne scribbled his answer quickly, chest tightening anxiously with each word. Logically, she knew that Gilbert would be attending university _somewhere_ in the Fall; she just hadn’t expected the prospect of him moving across the ocean. In the ten months since she had left Derry, Anne had scarcely heard from her old friends. There were letters in the beginning, but those were sparse and sporadic at best—and by mid-September they stopped arriving altogether. What if Gilbert decided to move to London? Surely he would be surrounded by beautiful girls wherever he went, but what if he met some beautiful blonde or brunette medical student with not a single freckle in sight? If her friends could tire of exchanging letters after _years_ of knowing each other, who was to say Gilbert would be any different?

Suddenly, Anne didn’t feel like cuddling up with a movie but not wanting to disappoint Gilbert, she let him select an old VHS before settling into his arms, head against his shoulder. She could feel him absentmindedly playing with her hair as C3PO talked Luke Skywalker into taking R2D2 as well, however her thoughts were far from the film, which only provided background noise to fall on deaf ears. All Anne could think of was how Gilbert was inevitably going to move on and forget about her.

They had only watched a few films together since the nature of their relationship had changed, but it had become almost routine for the young couple to steal kisses as they sat tucked up together under an old throw blanket on the Blythes’ couch. However, this time, Anne was so trapped inside her own mind that she remained oblivious to Gilbert’s less-than-subtle advances, her body as tense as her mind.  
  
“Is everything alright, Anne?” Gilbert asked after a while, but Anne was so caught up in her thoughts that his voice fell on deaf ears. “Anne? Anne?” He shifted away from her so that he could better see her face, which bore a slightly downtrodden expression. The cool air hitting Anne where Gilbert’s warm body once sat was enough to grab her attention.

“What?”

“Is everything alright? You seem a bit…off?”

“Erm, I’m grand, yeah. Just remembered that I promised Aunt Marilla I would help her with something. I should probably be on my way, actually.” She refused to meet his gaze, refused to let Gilbert know that the prospect of him moving on was the thing weighing heavy on her mind. How could she tell him? Especially when whichever university he chose would set him on the path to achieve his dream. What sort of girlfriend—no, what sort of soulmate—would she be if she let her own fears interfere?

Gilbert stood up. “Let me go get my keys and I’ll drive you.”  
  
Anne began packing up her homework, which was still laid out on the coffee table. “No, that’s alright. I could use the walk to think about how I want to put together this article.”  
  
“Are you sure? I really don’t mind, Anne-girl.” He could tell something was up, his voice laced with concern.

“Really, Gil. I could use a wee dander on me own is all.”

Before Gilbert could comprehend what was happening, Anne was pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before rushing out the door, leaving him staring after her, dumbfounded.

* * *

The April sun might have melted away the last traces of snow, but the air was still cold, especially in the morning when the sun still hung low in the sky and no number of layers was enough to keep Diana Barry warm. She had dressed quietly, snuck out at least an hour before her parents typically rose on a Saturday morning, determined to catch the earliest train to Charlottetown.

April 30th grew closer with each passing day, and the dark-haired teen was determined to meet her Aunt Josephine and find out the truth behind her parents’ decision to send her away before her sixteenth birthday approached. If that meant rising with the sun and leaving a note that she was working on a project with Ruby, then so be it.

The Saturday morning train was typically busy, packed with families wanting to do a bit of shopping in the larger city. Although it had been quite some time since her family had last been amongst the hoard of passengers aboard the early train, Diana made sure to give herself plenty of time to purchase her ticket and a hot chocolate from the Tim Horton’s inside the station before managing to find a seat in the packed car.

Diana hadn’t the faintest idea what to expect when she arrived in Charlottetown. It had taken quite a bit of digging through her father’s office to find Aunt Josephine’s address and even then, there was no guarantee that the woman still kept the same address or would be willing to meet her.

The shrill pitch of the conductor’s whistle signalling that the train doors were closing for departure pierced Diana’s thoughts and brought her back to reality just in time for a deep voice to ask, “Is this seat taken?” gesturing at the backward-facing seat across from her.

“No, not at all,” Diana replied kindly, shuffling to allow the boy more room to slide into the seat. Tall with dark blond hair and navy eyes and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, the boy looked to be about sixteen or seventeen and just her type.

At first, Diana did her best to keep to herself, sneaking glances whenever she thought he wasn’t looking, but when their eyes locked on one another and she blushed scarlet, caught in the act, the boy spoke. “I’m Fred,” he introduced himself, pausing as though he were waiting for Diana to do the same, though she was still reeling with embarrassment. “…and you are?”

“Oh, right…Diana,” she stammered. _Great, now he definitely thinks you’re a fool._

“Diana,” he repeated back. “I like that, it suits you. Heading into Charlottetown?” And just like that, the ice was broken as the two engaged in small talk throughout their journey. Diana learned that Fred was seventeen and that his family had just moved to Charlottetown from New Glasgow and that he had spent the previous night hanging out with a few friends from his old school. He was easy to talk to and the short trip seemed even shorter, all thanks to him.

As the train rolled into the station, Diana actually found herself feeling disappointed that they would be parting. However, it appeared that fate was on her side as a bit of light turbulence caused Fred to knock her nearly empty hot chocolate to the ground.

“Please let me buy you a new one!” he had insisted after apologising profusely, despite Diana’s insistence that he really didn’t have to. “No, really, there’s a nice café just around the corner from here. Let me make it up to you.”

Diana thought for a moment. Diana wasn’t sure if her Aunt Josephine even knew that she existed, and she really did want to continue chatting with Fred. Surely one hot chocolate wouldn’t hurt. “How can I say no to that?” she replied, her stomach filling with butterflies as he matched her acceptance with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it's taken so long for me to update and I'm so very sorry that this isn't the most exciting chapter to return from a hiatus with, but it is a bit necessary as it sets up some of the upcoming plot points.
> 
> I'm a bit bogged down with work at the moment, so updates won't be happening overnight but I do hope to get that next chapter up within the next few weeks. We're approaching the end of this one, but there's still a few things left in store before I set to work on that sequel. Thank you so much for reading...especially if you've been following this one along since the beginning. I can't promise anything, but I sincerely hope that I won't leave a fic on hiatus for nearly three months again!
> 
> Shoutout to the Storybook girls for letting me vent about my writer's block and exhaustion. You lot are the absolute best!
> 
> Come hang with me on [_Twitter,_](https://twitter.com/h0lyheadharpies) [_Tumblr,_](https://h0lyheadharpies.tumblr.com) or drop me a question on [_CuriousCat_](https://curiouscat.qa/h0lyheadharpies)!


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